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She had often sought the veranda of the little office and lured the new bookkeeper

from his work, and on several occasions had had him at the ranchhouse. Not only

was he an interesting talker; but there was an element of mystery about him

which appealed to the girl's sense of romance.

She knew that he was a gentleman born and reared, and she often found herself

wondering what tragic train of circumstances had set him adrift among the

flotsam of humanity's wreckage. Too, the same persistent conviction that she had

known him somewhere in the past that possessed her father clung to her mind;

but she could not place him.

"I overheard your dissertation on HERE AND THERE," said the girl. "I could not

very well help it--it would have been rude to interrupt a conversation." Her eyes

sparkled mischievously and her cheeks dimpled.

You wouldn't have been interrupting a conversation," objected Bridge, smiling;

you would have been turning a monologue into a conversation."

But it was a conversation," insisted the girl. "The wanderer was conversing with

the bookkeeper. You are a victim of wanderlust, Mr. L. Bridge--don't deny it. You

hate bookkeeping, or any other such prosaic vocation as requires permanent

residence in one place."

"Come now," expostulated the man. "That is hardly fair. Haven't I been here a

whole week?"

They both laughed.

What in the world can have induced you to remain so long?" cried Barbara. "How

very much like an old timer you must feel--one of the oldest inhabitants."

"I am a regular aborigine," declared Bridge; but his heart would have chosen

another reply. It would have been glad to tell the girl that there was a very real

and a very growing inducement to remain at El Orobo Rancho. The man was too

self-controlled, however, to give way to the impulses of his heart.

At first he had just liked the girl, and been immensely glad of her companionship

because there was so much that was common to them both--a love for good

music, good pictures, and good literature--things Bridge hadn't had an

opportunity to discuss with another for a long, long time.

And slowly he had found delight in just sitting and looking at her. He was

experienced enough to realize that this was a dangerous symptom, and so from

the moment he had been forced to acknowledge it to himself he had been very

careful to guard his speech and his manner in the girl's presence.

237

The Mucker