Barker was dreadfully alarmed.  He had heard of hysterics before.  He felt he ought to do something.  He moved toward her timidly, and gently drew away her handkerchief.  Alas! the blue wells were running over now.  He took her cold hands in his; he knelt beside her and passed his arm around her waist.  He drew her head upon his shoulder.  He was not sure that any of these things were effective until she suddenly lifted her eyes to his with the last ray of mirth in them vanishing in a big teardrop, put her arms round his neck, and sobbed: 

“Oh, George!  You blessed innocent!”

An eloquent silence was broken by a remorseful start from Barker.

“But I must go and warn my poor partners, dearest; there yet may be time; perhaps they have not yet taken possession of your father’s claim.”

“Yes, George dear,” said the young girl, with sparkling eyes; “and tell them to do so at once!”

“What?” gasped Barker.

“At once—­do you hear?—­or it may be too late!  Go quick.”

“But your father—­Oh, I see, dearest, you will tell him all yourself, and spare me.”

“I shall do nothing so foolish, Georgey.  Nor shall you!  Don’t you see the note isn’t due for a month?  Stop!  Have you told anybody but Paw and me?”

“Only the bank manager.”

She ran out of the room and returned in a minute tying the most enchanting of hats by a ribbon under her oval chin.  “I’ll run over and fix him,” she said.

“Fix him?” returned Barker, aghast.

“Yes, I’ll say your wicked partners have been playing a practical joke on you, and he mustn’t give you away.  He’ll do anything for me.”

“But my partners didn’t!  On the contrary—­”

“Don’t tell me, George,” said Miss Kitty severely.  “They ought never to have let you come here with that stuff.  But come!  You must go at once.  You must not meet Paw; you’ll blurt out everything to him; I know you!  I’ll tell him you could not stay to luncheon.  Quick, now; go.  What?  Well—­there!”

Whatever it represented, the exclamation was apparently so protracted that Miss Kitty was obliged to push her lover to the front landing before she could disappear by the back stairs.  But once in the street, Barker no longer lingered.  It was a good three miles back to the Gulch; he might still reach it by the time his partners were taking their noonday rest, and he resolved that although the messenger had preceded him, they would not enter upon the new claim until the afternoon.  For Barker, in spite of his mistress’s injunction, had no idea of taking what he couldn’t pay for; he would keep the claim intact until something could be settled.  For the rest, he walked on air!  Kitty loved him!  The accursed wealth no longer stood between them.  They were both poor now—­everything was possible.

The sun was beginning to send dwarf shadows toward the east when he reached the Gulch.  Here a new trepidation seized him.  How would his partners receive the news of his utter failure?  He was happy, for he had gained Kitty through it.  But they?  For a moment it seemed to him that he had purchased his happiness through their loss.  He stopped, took off his hat, and ran his fingers remorsefully through his damp curls.