“Are you sure you don’t mean because I am not man enough to make myself wanted very badly, even by the sheriff?” he asked, and Kitty could not mistake the bitterness in his voice.

“Why, Mr. Patches!” she cried.  “How could you think I meant such a thing?  Forgive me!  I was only wondering foolishly what you, a man of education and culture, could find in this rough life that would appeal to you in any way.  My curiosity is unpardonable, I suppose, but you must know that we are all wondering why you are here.”

“I do not blame you,” he returned, with that self-mocking smile, as though he were laughing at himself.  “I told you I could always be depended upon to make a fool of myself.  You see I am doing it now.  I don’t mind telling you this much—­that I am here for the same reason that you went to visit Mrs. Baldwin this afternoon.”

“For the good of your soul?” she asked gently.

“Exactly,” he returned gravely.  “For the good of my soul.”

“Well, then, Mr. Honorable Patches, here’s to your soul’s good health!” she cried brightly, checking her horse and holding out her hand.  “We part here.  You can see the Cross-Triangle buildings yonder.  I go this way.”

He looked his pleasure, as he clasped her hand in hearty understanding of the friendship offered.

“Thank you, Miss Reid.  I still maintain that the Dean’s judgment is unquestionable.”

She was not at all displeased with his reply.

“By the way,” she said, as if to prove her friendship.  “I suppose you know what to expect from Uncle Will and the boys when they learn of your little adventure?”

“I do,” he answered, as if resigned to anything.

“And do you enjoy making fun for them?”

“I assure you, Miss Reid, I am very human.”

“Well, then, why don’t you turn the laugh on them?”

“But how?”

“They are expecting you to get into some sort of a scrape, don’t you think?”

“They are always expecting that.  And,” he added, with that droll touch in his voice, “I must say I rarely disappoint them.”

“I suspect,” she continued, thoughtfully, “that the Dean purposely did not explain that drift fence to you.”

“He has established precedents that would justify my thinking so, I’ll admit.”

“Well, then, why don’t you ride cheerfully home and report the progress of your work as though nothing had happened?”

“You mean that you won’t tell?” he cried.

She nodded gaily.  “I told them this afternoon that it wasn’t fair for you to have no one but Stella on your side.”

“What a good Samaritan you are!  You put me under an everlasting obligation to you.”

“All right,” she laughed.  “I’m glad you feel that way about it.  I shall hold that debt against you until some day when I am in dreadful need, and then I shall demand payment in full.  Good-by!”

And once again Kitty had spoken, in jest, words that held for them both, had they but known, great significance.