corral, where she had left him when she had returned from the
schoolhouse some hours before.

She had found the house unoccupied when she arrived; there was evidence
that her father had left shortly after breakfast--for the dishes were
unwashed and the floor unswept--two duties that he always had
performed, knowing that in the morning she had a ten-mile ride before
her.

Table and floor had been attended to by the girl. But she had done
little else. For hours she had sat in a chair near the front door,
thinking of what had happened in the schoolhouse--of what she had
heard--the evidence that Kane Lawler knew what her father had been
doing, and that he was trying to protect her.

She believed it was the latter knowledge that made her feel so small, so
insignificant, so utterly miserable. For while she was convinced that he
would think no less of her, no matter what her father had done, the fact
that Lawler was trying to keep the knowledge of her father's guilt from
her told her that he appreciated the keen disgrace that threatened her.

When Warden dismounted near the cabin door she thought it was her father
returning, and she got up and went to the stove, where she stood,
lifting the iron lids, preparatory to starting a fire.

She felt that she could not look at her father, after what had happened;
and so she laid some wood in the stove, deliberately keeping her back to
the door, trying to think of something to say to her father--for she had
determined to tell him about the incident of the morning.