“Roger’s starting new, dad,” the girl interposed.
Mallory stared keenly at the younger man. He started to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of horses outside the house.
Rathburn whirled toward the door, took a step, and stopped in his tracks. The girl’s hands flew to the sides of her face, and her eyes widened with apprehension.
“I’ll go see who it is,” said Mallory with a quick look at Rathburn.
He hastened out into the kitchen, and a moment later they heard the kitchen door open. There was a 200 murmur of voices. The girl stared at Rathburn breathlessly, while he tapped with his slim fingers upon the top of the table.
Then Mallory came in. “Somebody to see you,” he said to Rathburn.
Rathburn looked once at the white-faced girl and followed her father out into the kitchen. She heard them speak in an undertone, and then Rathburn came back into the room.
“I ain’t much elated over my visitor,” he said slowly. “I wish you hadn’t asked me what you did until––well, until this caller had come an’ gone.”
She looked straight into his eyes in an agony of dread.
“Who is it, Roger?” she asked, wetting her lips.