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 his place at home. Then she turned to the door and called:

"Alma! He's come!"

She laughed when the one summoned appeared almost instantly in the door, and came forth with sprightly eagerness which she made no dishonest attempt to hide.

Barrett, puzzled to account for this unexpected member of the household—for he knew there never had been a daughter in that family—felt himself suddenly uncouth in his strange garb. He backed off a little on his high-heeled boots as awkwardly as the rawest cowpuncher from the back range.

"My niece, Miss Nearing," Barrett heard Nearing say.

Barrett bowed, blushing to the ears in the foolish weakness he never could control, overlooking for a moment her frankly-offered hand.

"We've been talking about you for days and days," Alma Nearing said.

"I never hoped to be half that important," he told 'her, repairing at once the oversight of her friendly hand.

"I expected to see a sailor from the deep, not a cowboy," she laughed.

Barrett was still a boy in his way with women, in spite of his five-and-twenty years. He regarded them with deferential awe; to him they still were the holiest handiwork of the Creator, however they might suffer abasement and become defiled. He looked at her now out of his hot confusion, the touch of her hand still