The housekeeper turned to gaze at him. As their eyes met, Mrs.

Masterbrook made a strange rasping sound in her throat. Her hand moved instinctively toward her face as if to ward off a blow.

"Mrs. Masterbrook, I don't believe you have met our guest," Mr. Nichols began.

The housekeeper gave him no opportunity to finish. She moved back into her bedroom and closed the door.

"Did I offend your housekeeper?" asked Michael Haymond anxiously.

"Don't give it a thought," replied Mr. Nichols, lowering his voice.

"Mrs. Masterbrook is a very odd character. She may have felt embarra.s.sed because she wasn't dressed up for the occasion. Come along now and we'll get that drink of water."

Penny went back into her room and sat down on the bed. Apparently her father had not distrusted Michael Haymond's motives nor had he considered Mrs. Masterbrook's rude action as anything out of the way.

"Dad takes everything casually," Penny thought.

She could hear her father and Michael Haymond in the kitchen laughing and talking together. The icebox door slammed shut. Evidently they were indulging in a snack of food.

"Mrs. Masterbrook will be furious in the morning," Penny chuckled.

"She seems to detest Michael Haymond anyway. For a moment I thought she appeared to recognize him, but I suppose she was merely trying to be dramatic. That's the trouble with Mrs. Masterbrook--she's usually acting a part."

Penny allowed her thoughts to ramble at will until she heard her father and Michael Haymond enter their rooms. The hall light was switched out. Once more the house quieted down.

Penny crept back into bed, but she could not sleep. She felt strangely excited.

Throughout the night there was no further disturbance. After a few hours the rain ceased and stars began to straggle through the clouds.

The wind died down.

Penny tossed restlessly upon her pillow. Now and then she could hear Mrs. Masterbrook's bed creak in the next room as if the housekeeper also were spending a sleepless night.

At dawn Penny arose and, quietly dressing, let herself out of the cottage. The grounds were muddy, but everything seemed fresh and green. Birds chirped and the earth gave off a pleasant odor.

At breakfast time Penny returned to the house, feeling none the worse for her sleepless night. As she approached the porch she saw her father and the guest talking earnestly. They turned to greet her.

"Aren't you an early bird this morning, Penny?" inquired her father.

"Oh, I just went for a little walk before breakfast, Dad."

Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.

"You're lucky to get anything to eat this morning," she said stiffly.

"There's something the matter with the stove. It doesn't draw properly and we're practically out of wood."

"Anything else wrong about the place?" Mr. Nichols asked with a sigh.

"There are enough odd jobs around here to keep a man busy for a week,"

replied the housekeeper. "The water pump isn't working well and someone ought to put on the screens."

"I'll be glad to do that for you," offered Michael Haymond. "And I'm good at cutting wood too. Is there an ax around here anywhere?"

"I think I saw one in the bas.e.m.e.nt," Mr. Nichols told him. "But see here--you're our guest."

"I'll be glad to do a little to earn my breakfast. I like to work."

"I can see you do," Mr. Nichols smiled. He studied the young man for a moment. Then he asked abruptly, "How would you like a steady job for a few days?"

"Doing what?"

"All the odd jobs I'm supposed to do. Can you drive a car?"

"Yes."

"Then you could drive to town for our groceries, see that we have a daily wood supply, and repair all the things around here that are falling to pieces."

"Our landlord is expected to see that the place is in livable condition," Penny said quickly. She felt a little troubled because her father wished to engage the strange young man.

"If we wait for him to take care of things, we'll never be comfortable here," returned Mr. Nichols. He turned again to Michael Haymond.

"Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. Probably you aren't in need of a job."

"But I am," replied the young man quickly. "I'll be glad to work for my board and room."

"I think we can do better than that for you," smiled Mr. Nichols.

"Your salary won't be large, but we'll keep you in spending money at least."

"What shall I do first? Chop the wood?"

"You might look at the stove and see if you can discover what is wrong with it."

"O.K.," laughed the young man. "I know a little about cook stoves. We had one at the----"

He stopped abruptly and then finished in confusion: "We had a cook stove at the place where I lived."

"And where was that, young man?" asked Mrs. Masterbrook tartly.

"It doesn't matter in the least," interposed Mr. Nichols smoothly.

"Mr. Haymond's affairs are his own."

"There's no great mystery about my past," said the young man. "I came from the West. My parents are dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Mr. Nichols sympathetically.

Michael Haymond stood gazing thoughtfully toward the ravine for a moment. Then, recovering himself, he followed Mrs. Masterbrook into the house to look at the cook stove.

"Now Penny--don't say it," declared Mr. Nichols when he was alone with his daughter.

"Don't say what, Dad?"

"That I'm making a big mistake to hire young Haymond. I can see you feel that way."