Fledra was so desirous of his love and confidence that she made as if to speak.  She took two steps forward, then hesitated.  Remembering Ann and the care she had given Floyd, her hand fell convulsively on the door, and she tried to close it.  She dared not tell him of Lon’s midnight visit to the home, and wondered if he would give her up to her squatter father, and let Flukey be taken back to the settlement.

“I told ye the truth when I said I was prayin’,” she said; “but I was thinkin’, too, if it was right for a father to have his own children, if he was to ask for ’em.”

Horace, not understanding her enigmatical words, regarded her gravely.

“What a queer girl you are, anyway, Fledra!” he exclaimed.  He spoke almost irritably.  He felt like grasping her up and shaking her as one might an obstreperous child.

His moody silence made Fledra repeat her words.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Horace answered; “but, I suppose, if a father’s children were being kept from him, he could take them if he wished.  Fledra, look at me!”

She raised her gaze slowly, her somber eyes smiting the watching man as might a blow.  Her beseeching expression arrested the bitter speech that rose to his lips.  As the memory of her hard work gripped him, he bent forward and took her slim, cold hand in his.

“Fledra, I want you to pay attention to what I am going to say.  I feel sure that you want to be a good girl.  If I were not, I could not bear it.  Even if you don’t trust me, I’m going to help you all I can, anyway.”

“And pray,” gasped Fledra, “pray, Brother Horace, that I can be just what you want me to be, and that I can stay with Floyd in your house!”

The girl closed the door quickly in his face, and Shellington moved slowly away, racking his brain for some solution of the problem.

With their minds in a perturbed state, Lem and Lon passed silently back into the cemetery.  The shock of the girl’s appearance had awed them both.  They were nearing the toolhouse before Scraggy came into Lem’s mind.

The whole situation was changed, now that Flea was coming to him.  It was the same to him whether she wanted to come or not; nor did it matter that he had promised Screech Owl that she should be in the scow.  He still wanted his boy to help him with his work; but Scraggy was a person wholly out of his life.

The two men halted in front of the shed.

“There be a woman in there,” said Lem in a low voice.

“What woman?” asked Lon.

“Scraggy.”

“Scraggy!  How’d she come in here?”

“I took her in,” said Lem.  “She were the woman what that guy throwed over the fence.”

Lon pushed his companion aside and pressed through the small doorway.  He cast the light of the lantern about; but no Screech Owl was in sight.

“If Scraggy was over here, Lem,” he said doubtfully, “then she’s gone.  We’d better scoot and get a place to stay all night.”