DAVID Brewster rose to his feet.

"If your ankle is all right now," he suggested hurriedly, "I had better go."

"Why?" asked Madge innocently.

"I have some work to do," returned David.

"The same work that you do every afternoon?"

David bowed his head. "Yes," he replied. "See here, Miss Morton, there isn't any reason why I shouldn't tell you what I do when off by myself every afternoon. I don't want you to think that I am always up to some dishonest kind of business." David flushed hotly. "I am only studying when I hide off here in the woods. You see, I have always had to work awfully hard; I never have had much time for schooling. But I don't want the other fellows to get too far ahead of me, for I am going to college some day, even if I am a grown man, when my chance comes."

"Good for you, David!" cried Madge, clapping her hands softly. "Of course you will go to college if you have set your mind upon going. I don't believe you are the kind of boy that gives up. You'll do most anything you want to do some day."

David's face flushed under Madge's enthusiasm. "Oh, no, I won't," he answered miserably. "There are some things a fellow can't live down."

"You mean this theft?" inquired Madge.

"Yes," nodded the boy. "Everyone believes me to be a common thief."

"But you didn't steal the things. I believe I know who took them," hazarded Madge; "that man and the old woman who were hiding in the woods."

Madge saw at a glance that her guess was true. David gazed at her helplessly. Then he shook his head. "Those people must have been far away from this neighborhood when the things were taken," he replied.

"Oh, no, they weren't," retorted Madge. "The old woman was at the farm the night of the fire, dressed up as 'Old Nokomis.' I wondered, at the time, if she was not up to some kind of mischief. Then, later on, when Nellie was lost, she saw the same man and woman. I believe they changed their hiding place for fear they might be suspected of the theft, and that we would send the sheriff to look for them."

"But why should I try to shield them, Miss Morton?" asked David obstinately, "and how could I have the stolen goods if other people took them?"

It was Madge's turn to flush and be silent. "Don't make me tell you why I think you are trying to shield them, David, by taking the shame on yourself," she pleaded. "You see, I believe I have guessed what those people are to you."

"You can't have guessed," protested David hoarsely. "You don't know anything of me or my people."

"Girls are good at guessing," explained Madge apologetically. "You see, Miss Betsey told us that your father wasn't a very good kind of man, and that he sometimes went away from home and wandered around the country for a long time. And, and——" Madge hesitated. "At first when you spoke to the man and old woman, I was just surprised at your knowing such curious people. Then I began to think. The man looked something like you, David. So I have just worked it out in my own mind that the man took the things, and that you made him let you return them to Miss Betsey and Mrs. Preston, and that you are willing to take the blame on yourself because—because——" Madge hesitated again and looked down. "Because the man is your father!" she said gently. "Am I right, David? Please tell me."David's face turned red, then white, then red again. "You think that thief is my father, because I look like him, and because I am willing to bear the burden of his guilt?" David was not conscious that he had at last confessed to Madge that the man she suspected was the actual robber!

"He is not my father," continued David passionately. "My father is good for nothing; he comes of bad people, and he has dragged my mother down with him. But he is not a thief! The man who stole the money from Miss Betsey and the silver from the Prestons is my first cousin. He is a great deal older than I am. His father was my father's eldest brother. Hal used to live with us when I was a little boy, and I was fond of him then. But he got too bad, even for us to stand, and he has since been tramping around the country, stealing, or living any way that he could. He would not give me back the things until I promised to take the blame if anybody was suspected. He threatened to implicate me in the robbery if I told any one, so I thought the best thing to do was to return the things and let him go."

Madge's face was burning and her hands quite cold. "I am sure I beg your pardon, David, with all my heart," she said humbly. "I know that you never can forgive me for insulting your father. I ought not to have tried to find out your secret. Once, long ago, a girl told my friends a story about my father. She said that he had been disgraced when he was a captain in the Navy, and had been dismissed from the service. It wasn't true," faltered Madge, "but most people believed it. I had to try awfully hard to forgive that girl when, later on, she asked me to pardon her. So I don't even ask you to forgive me, David," she insisted mournfully; "only you will believe me when I say that I am awfully sorry for my mistake."

David was staring at her intently. "Forgive you," he replied. "Of course I won't—because there is nothing to forgive. You have been the best friend I ever had. To think that, even when you thought my father was a thief and a tramp, you were still willing to believe in me and to be my friend! You are simply great! Some day I am going to do something splendid that will make you feel glad to know David Brewster." David shook Madge's hand warmly, his eyes clear and untroubled for the first time in their acquaintance. This girl had thought the worst of his family and still had trusted him. No one with a faithful friend need ever be discouraged.

Madge and David walked slowly back to the Preston house, across the August fields. It was late afternoon. The boy and girl had talked together for a long time under the old tree. They had confided to each other many of their hopes and ambitions. They were not to see each other alone again for a long time. But neither one of them was to forget that summer afternoon.

At the front gate Madge turned and faced David squarely. Her charming face wore an expression of stubborn determination.

"David Brewster, I have not promised your cousin to keep his secret, or to let you be suspected of his crime. I am going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Preston and Miss Betsey that you did not steal their property, and that just as soon as I get inside the house."

David shook his head resolutely. "I thought I could trust you, Madge."

"You can," urged Madge. "Only, please, don't be so stubborn. It can't hurt your cousin for me to tell what he has done. Mr. Preston and Miss Betsey have never seen him and they will both promise never to try to punish him for the theft. They have their things back, so they are not hurt, except by——"

"By what?" asked David unsuspiciously.

"By their lack of faith in you, David," answered Madge convincingly. "It hurts awfully to be deceived in people. Miss Betsey cried all night, and Mr. Preston ate hardly any breakfast or luncheon, they have been so unhappy over you."

The little captain thought she saw signs of relenting in David's face. "Do let me tell," she pleaded. "I really can't bear it, if you don't," she ended in characteristic Madge-fashion.

David smiled and nodded.

Without waiting to give him a chance to change his mind she ran into the house and up the front steps. The three girls and the motor launch boys had returned and were wondering what had become of her. Madge swept them all before her into the Preston library. Then, summoning her host and hostess, Miss Betsey and Miss Jenny Ann, Madge told David's story. Perhaps she made him a hero in explaining how he was willing to take his cousin's crime on his own shoulders, rather than have Miss Betsey and Mrs. Preston lose their property, but at least, after she had finished, there was no one present who did not have a feeling of admiration for David, who had tried to do his duty even at the expense of his good name.