“I was a thinkin’ that myself,” ruminated Lon.

“The girl idolizes her brother and Mr. Shellington.  If you could make her understand that they would otherwise both be killed through your instrumentality, she would leave the house of her own free will, I’m sure.”

Lon, grimacing with delight, bounded up and faced Lem.

“That be so!  That comes of gittin’ a lawyer what’s got stuff in his head, ye see, Lem.  I told ye that when ye said as how we could get them kids without spendin’ no money.”

“You will have to use great care, both of you,” Everett urged, “and it only means for you to take the girl, as you first planned, to Ithaca; and I will come after her.  You will both have your money, and our business together will be at an end.”  Lem laughed, but with no sound.  “Just how to get this girl is more than I have figured out,” Everett continued; “but it might be well for me to try and get a letter to her.  I have been a steady visitor at Shellington’s home for many years.  We are hardly upon good terms now; but I could manage it, if one of you men would write it.  Make the letter strong, and you will gain your ends.  You may bring it to my office tomorrow, Mr. Cronk.”  He rose, buttoned up his raincoat, and went out, leaving two gaping men looking after him.

* * * * *

Since the papers had been served upon him, Horace had had no peace of mind.  The solemn deputy loitering about the home menaced the whole future.  It sickened him when he forced his imagination to dwell upon Fledra’s future, if she were dragged back to Ithaca, and he had rather place Floyd in his grave than give him into the hands of the squatter.  Suddenly, one morning, he took a great resolution, and no sooner had he made up his mind to take the one step that would change his whole life than he called Ann to tell her about it.

“I’m going to marry Fledra,” he said, catching his breath.

Ann dropped her hands fearfully; but intense interest gathered on her face.

“I can save her no other way,” he went on, almost in excuse, noting her glance.  “And you must have seen, Ann, dear, that I love the child.  Sit down here and let me tell you about it.”

He began at the beginning, telling her of his early growing love, of his desire to make the squatter child his wife.  Ann allowed him to narrate his story impulsively, without interruption.

Then she said gently: 

“Horace, dear, have you told her that you love her?”

“Yes; but I am going to tell her again this morning.”

“Ask her now,” suggested Ann eagerly, and she rose.

Horace found Fledra with Floyd, and she lifted her eyes confidingly to his with a smile.  For a long time he had been so tender, so loving, that the specter bred and fostered by Everett Brimbecomb’s kisses had nearly vanished.

“Floyd is so much better this morning!” she said.  Her words were well chosen, and she pronounced her brother’s new name carefully.