"Of course," said Mrs. Comstock. "Some of them seem quite baked. Shall I put them to soak? Do you want to take them in the morning?"
"Yes, I do," answered Elnora. "If you would just fill the pail with water."
Mrs. Comstock left the room. Wesley Sinton sat with his back to the window in the west end of the cabin which overlooked the well. A suppressed sound behind him caused him to turn quickly. Then he arose and leaned over Margaret.
"She's out there laughing like a blamed monkey!" he whispered indignantly.
"Well, she can't help it!" exclaimed Margaret.
"I'm going home!" said Wesley.
"Oh, no, you are not!" retorted Margaret. "You are missing the point. The point is not how you look, or feel. It is to get these things in Elnora's possession past dispute. You go now, and to-morrow Elnora will wear calico, and Kate Comstock will return these goods. Right here I stay until everything we bought is Elnora's."
"What are you going to do?" asked Wesley.
"You'll have to watch me," said Margaret. "I don't know yet, myself."
Then she arose and peered from the window. At the well curb stood Katharine Comstock. The strain of the day was finding reaction. Her chin was in the air, she was heaving, shaking, and strangling to suppress any sound. The word that slipped between Margaret Sinton's lips shocked Wesley until he dropped on his chair,
