"I may have to do so again," said Keith, dryly.

Mrs. Yorke's hand went toward the region of her pocket, but uncertainly;
for she was not quite sure what he was. His face and air belied his
shabby dress. A closer look than she had given him caused her to stop
with a start.

"Mr.--ah--?" After trying to recall the name, she gave it up. "I am very
much obliged to you for your kindness to my daughter," she began. "I do
not know how I can compensate you; but if you will come to the hotel
sometime to-morrow--any time--perhaps, there is something--? Can you
come to the hotel to-morrow?" Her tone was condescending.

"Thank you," said Keith, quietly. "I am afraid I cannot go to the
village to-morrow. I have already been more than compensated in being
able to render a service to a lady. I have a school, and I make it a
rule never to go anywhere except Friday evening or Saturday." He lifted
his hat and backed away.

As they drove away the girl said, "Thank you" and "Good-by," very
sweetly.

"Who is he, Alice? What is he?" asked her mother.

"I don't know. Mr. Keith. He is a gentleman."

As Gordon stood by the roadside and saw the carriage disappear in a haze
of dust, he was oppressed with a curious sense of loneliness. The
isolation of his position seemed to strike him all on a sudden. That