Falkner. "Not that you've tried it on me."

Charleton gave her an amused glance not unmixed with admiration.

"I don't know that even a wolf would tackle a lynx cat," he chuckled.

Douglas looked from the beautiful woman around the homelike room. "You're
a lucky chap, Charleton," he said suddenly.

Mrs. Falkner had picked up her sewing-basket. "Nobody with a mind like
Charleton's is so awful lucky," she said.

"Ouch!" grinned Charleton, and lighted his pipe afresh.

Douglas pondered on Mrs. Falkner's remark on his way back to the
post-office. Peter was sitting on the doorstep with Sister. The mail
had been distributed and most of Lost Chief had come and gone.

"That horse is tired, Doug," said Peter. "What have you been doing?
Running him to break him?"

"Aw, he's all right," protested Douglas. "Don't climb a tree about him,
Peter. I want to talk to you. Make Sister move over."

"Sister," said Peter, "don't you want to go down and speak nice to your
old friend Prince?"

Prince, standing before the platform with slavering tongue, bright eyes
shining, wagged his tail in a conciliatory manner. Sister sniffed,
growled, whimpered, then walked deliberately down the steps and said