Something had happened in the house of Waldstricker. Since the churching of Tessibel Skinner, everything had been topsy turvy. The criticism heaped on Ebenezer for his part in it had only served to make him more arrogant at home and abroad.

One morning at breakfast, Frederick being absent, Madelene was alone with Ebenezer and his wife.

"Put down your paper a minute, Eb," said Madelene, "will you?"

Scowling, Waldstricker let the paper rattle to the floor.

"What do you want now?... I can't have a minute's peace. What is it?... More money?"

"No, nor nothing to do with it, Ebenezer. I want to ask you something, and do be quite frank with me. Does Fred ever go to see that Skinner girl?"

The man's heavy brows drew into a straight dark line above his eyes.

"He'd better not," he gritted between his teeth.

"That isn't the point," answered Madelene. "Does he?"

"I don't believe I'd give myself much concern about that if I were you," he said presently. "I understand that man Letts, Sandy Letts, who is working for me on the Bishop matter, still wants to marry her."

"Of course she won't as long as Frederick—"

Waldstricker interrupted her.

"If Frederick does go there, he won't long when Letts finds it out."

Madelene's eager glance brought the unmatched lips aslant of each other.

"I don't think he'll go often," he repeated. "I'll see to it myself. She can marry Lysander Letts or—"

"Or what?" Madelene's elbows came to the table, a hand on each cheek. "Oh, Ebbie, do tell me! I'm so miserable about her. I wish she was dead!"

"But, Ebenezer," said Helen, "it seems awful for such a refined girl to marry such a man!"

The elder's uplifted hand came down on the table with a bang, and higher mounted his proud lip. He ignored his wife's pleading speech, but answered his sister's.

"So will Miss Skinner wish she were dead before I'm done with her," said he.

"Why?"

Waldstricker leaned over the table, looking first at his wife, then at Madelene. Helen shuddered. How relentless he looked when his mouth turned down at both corners! She had grown so afraid of him of late.

"I've an effective way to keep him from her," said he.

"Goody!" exclaimed Madelene, and "How, dear?" asked Helen.

The man spoke only two words in a low, husky voice, but each woman heard them.

"Good!" gasped Madelene, standing quickly. "How perfectly glorious!"

"How perfectly awful!" groaned Helen. "Ebenezer, don't do anything so dreadful."

Waldstricker looked across the table with that strange glitter in his eyes.

"Helen, must we go over again the same painful ground that women should not interfere!"

Mrs. Waldstricker rose to her feet.

"No, Ebenezer, no, no! Only I was thinking of Deforrest!"

"Deforrest will not know of it until it's too late," said Waldstricker, rising too.

"Does he know of Letts' trying to force her to marry him?" asked Helen.

"I've never told him. Possibly the girl has."

"I think not," answered Helen, gravely. "He'd have mentioned it to me, I think!"

As her brother passed Madelene, he tweaked her ear.

"Just clear your pretty head of further worry, little kitten ... See?"

Madelene caught his hand affectionately in hers.

"Kiss me, best of good brothers," she smiled. "You've made me perfectly happy! Isn't it dreadful to have to keep tabs on one's husband?"

"You won't have to long," Waldstricker assured her.

Then he kissed her and followed his wife into the library. Mrs. Waldstricker walked to the window and looked out, her eyes full of tears.

"Helen," said Ebenezer, gravely, taking her by the shoulders and turning her face toward him. "You displease me very much."

The drops hanging on the long lashes fell suddenly.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't see why you always antagonize Deforrest. You remember how angry he was after that church affair."

"Your brother's anger doesn't affect me in the slightest," returned Ebenezer coldly. "When I see my duty to God, I do it, that's all."

"And you're really determined—Oh, Eb dear, for my sake, please—"

The husband made an impatient movement.

"Helen, how many times have I got to forbid your crying this way. You're always in tears. You'll make yourself sick."

"Lately you've been so cross to me," sobbed Helen, burying her face in her handkerchief.

Waldstricker put his arm about her.

"I don't want to be cross.... There!... Now lie down here on the divan.... I'm going out for an hour or two."

Then he put on his cap, took up his riding whip, and went away to the stables.

A few minutes later Helen Waldstricker sat up straight, and rang the bell. To the servant who appeared, she said,

"Find Mr. Graves and send him to me immediately."

When Frederick received the message, cold chills chased each other up and down his back. Dismayed, he desired to disobey but dared not, besides Helen was the least dangerous of the three. What could she want, he considered queruously. He hadn't had a minute's peace since he came home. Madelene was in a state of tears nearly all the time; his brother-in-law, dictatorial, difficult even in his milder moods, seemed secretive and suspicious. As far as he was concerned, he kept from the house as much as possible, but this only provoked to a greater degree his young wife's tears and complaints. Only this morning, he had been treated to a spell of hysterics the like of which Madelene had never before equalled.

His wife would not believe his oft-repeated assertions that he had not been to the Skinner cabin since the day she had surprised him there. Frederick had spoken truly. His fear of his powerful brother-in-law and his own lack of moral courage allowed the days to drift along until now he felt he could not go into the presence of the girl he had thus neglected.

He watched until his brother-in-law drove from the stables and disappeared. Then he turned and went into the library. Helen beckoned to him to come near her.

"I must tell you something," she breathed.

She pointed to a chair near the divan. For a time she talked in an undertone, telling him something which sent the blood flying from the young man's face, and left him faint and sick at heart.

And later by an hour, Frederick Graves was walking the railroad tracks toward the Skinner shanty.