again--but I'm not," said Tom.

"But that isn't really old," objected Betty.

"Well, that's old enough, Bet, as you'll discover for yourself
one of these days."

"Mercy, Tom!" cried Betty.

Mr. Ware consumed a cup of tea in silence.

"You were over to see Norton, weren't you, Bet? How did you find
him?" he asked abruptly.

"The doctor says he will soon be about again," answered Betty.

Tom stroked his chin and gazed at her reflectively.

"Betty, I wish you wouldn't go there again--that's a good girl!"
he said tactfully, and as he conceived it, affectionately, even,
paving the way for an exercise of whatever influence might be
his, a point on which he had no very clear idea. Betty glanced
up quickly.

"Why, Tom, why shouldn't I go there?" she demanded.

"It might set people gossiping. I reckon there's been pretty
near enough talk about you and Charley Norton. A young girl
can't be too careful." The planter's tone was conciliatory in
the extreme, he dared not risk a break by any open show of