“But you will have to when we are married,” said James.

Clemency blushed and quivered.  “Well, maybe I will,” she whispered.  “I suppose I shall be just enough of a fool to stay in the house, if you order me, the way I do when Uncle Tom does.”

“You shall stay in the house for no man alive when I have you in charge,” said James.  “Clemency—­”

“What?”

“I will take you out now, if you say so.  I can protect you.”

“I know you can,” Clemency said, “but I guess we had better not.  You see Uncle Tom doesn’t know yet, and he will be coming home, and—­”

“I am going to tell him just as soon as he does,” declared James.

“I wonder if you had better not wait,” Clemency said thoughtfully.

“Wait?  Why?”

“Nothing, only poor Uncle Tom is frightfully worried about something now.  He worries about that dreadful man, and I am afraid he worries about mother.  I don’t know exactly what he worries about; but I don’t want him worried about anything else.”

“I can’t see for the life of me why he should worry about this,” said James with a piqued air.  He was, in fact, considering quite naively that he was not a bad match, taking into consideration his prospects, and Clemency evidently needed all the protection she could get.

Clemency understood directly what his tone implied.  “Oh, goodness,” said she, “of course, as far as you are concerned, Uncle Tom will be pleased.  Why shouldn’t he? and so will mother.  Here you are young and handsome, and well educated, and good, what more could anybody want for a girl, unless they were on the lookout for a ducal coronet or something of that sort?  It isn’t that, only there is something queer, there must be something queer, about that man, and I don’t know how much this might complicate it.  I don’t know but Uncle Tom might have more occasion to worry.”

“I don’t see why,” said James mystified, “but I’ll wait a few days if you say so, only I hate to have anything underhanded, you know.  How about your mother?”

“Please wait and tell her when you tell Uncle Tom,” pleaded Clemency.  All the time she was completely deceiving the young man.  What she was really afraid of was that James himself might run into danger from this mysterious persecutor of hers if the fact of her betrothal became known.  “I shall not mind staying in the house at all now,” she added.  An expression came over her face which James did not understand, which no man would have understood.  Clemency was wonderfully skilled at needle-work, and she had plenty of material in the house.  She was reflecting innocently how she could begin at once upon some dainty little frills for her trousseau.  A delight, purely feminine, filled her fair little face.

“All the same,” said James, “I am going to take you out before long.  You must have some fresh air.”

“I don’t mind,” said Clemency, then she broke off suddenly.  She ran to the farther end of the room, sat down, and snatched a book from the table and opened it in the middle, “It is Uncle Tom,” she remarked.