As he held her hand, he glanced down at it and noted how greatly it had changed during the past few months.  The skin was no longer rough and brown, and the fingers, formerly stiff and swollen from hard work, were growing more shapely.  From her hand his glance roved over the girl, noting the improvements in her dress, and the way the thick, wavy black hair was piled on top of her shapely head.

“It hadn’t occurred to me before, Moira,” he said with a bright impersonal smile that robbed his remark of all suggestion of masculine flattery, “but it seems to me I’m unusually glad to see you, also.  You’ve been fixing your hair different.”

The soft lambent glow leaped again into Moira’s eyes.  He had noticed her—­particularly.  “Do you like my hair done that way?” she inquired eagerly.

“I don’t know whether I do or not.  It’s unusual—­for you.  You look mighty sweetly old-fashioned with it coiled in back—­somewhat like an old-fashioned daguerreotype of my mother.  Is this new style the latest in hairdressing in Sequoia?”

“I think so, Mr. Bryce.  I copied it from Colonel Pennington’s niece, Miss Sumner.”

“Oh,” he replied briefly.  “You’ve met her, have you?  I didn’t know she was in Sequoia still.”

“She’s been away, but she came back last week.  I went to the Valley of the Giants last Saturday afternoon—­”

Bryce interrupted.  “You didn’t tell my father about the tree that was cut, did you?” he demanded sharply.

“No.”

“Good girl!  He mustn’t know.  Go on, Moira.  I interrupted you.”

“I met Miss Sumner up there.  She was lost; she’d followed the old trail into the timber, and when the trees shut out the sun, she lost all sense of direction.  She was terribly frightened and crying when I found her and brought her home”

“Well, I swan, Moira!  What was she doing in our timber?”

“She told me that once, when she was a little girl, you had taken her for a ride on your pony up to your mother’s grave.  And it seems she had a great curiosity to see that spot again and started out without saying a word to any one.  Poor dear!  She was in a sad state when I found her.”

“How fortunate you found her!  I’ve met Miss Sumner three or four times.  That was when she first came to Sequoia.  She’s a stunning girl, isn’t she?”

“Perfectly, Mr. Bryce.  She’s the first lady I’ve ever met.  She’s different.”

“No doubt!  Her kind are not a product of homely little communities like Sequoia.  And for that matter, neither is her wolf of an uncle.  What did Miss Sumner have to say to you, Moira?”

“She told me all about herself—­and she said a lot of nice things about you, Mr. Bryce, after I told her I worked for you.  And when I showed her the way home, she insisted that I should walk home with her.  So I did—­and the butler served us with tea and toast and marmalade.  Then she showed me all her wonderful things—­and gave me some of them.  Oh, Mr. Bryce, she’s so sweet.  She had her maid dress my hair in half a dozen different styles until they could decide on the right style, and—­”