“Are you going to come to see us occasionally?” inquired Mrs. Ide, gravely.

“Same as I used to,” replied Ina, with feeling.

“Your father will not like that, Ina. He is a hard man, as hard in some ways as Amos Ide.”

“We have already clashed,” said Ina, naïvely. “To my discomfiture.”

“Mother, Ina’s as spunky as when she used to quarrel with Ben,” spoke up Hettie, impulsively.

Manifestly it was an unfortunate allusion, for the older woman appeared to retreat within herself. Ina regretted the reference to Ben, for she knew she must say something about him, and was at a loss.

“Yes, I remember Ben and our quarrels as well as anything,” she replied, simply. “It would be nice to—to talk over old times, but we’ll leave that till another day. Good–by, Mrs. Ide. I shall come to see you often…. Hettie, will you walk down the lane with me? I’m going to meet Marvie and Dall.”

“That I shall,” rejoined Hettie, heartily.

But once out of the house, Ina felt the constraint that bound Hettie as well as herself. She would make an end of that. But despite her overtures, it was not until they were well down the lane that she hit upon the right way to reach Hettie.

Suddenly turning to Hettie, she had queried, bluntly: “Now tell me about Ben.”

Hettie turned so pale that the freckles stood out prominently upon her face, and her eyes filled with tears.

“You’ve heard?” she asked, huskily.

“A lot of gossip,” replied Ina, swiftly. “I don’t believe a single word of it. Hettie, tell me the truth.”

“Oh, Ina—that’s so good of you,” burst out Hettie, almost sobbing, and she seized Ina’s hand. “There’s not so much to tell. Ben loved the wild country and wild horses. He couldn’t help it. Father drove him away from home—made an outcast of him. It broke mother’s heart—and it’s breaking mine. All kinds of lies have been flying around about Ben. Of late, since that man Setter came to Tule Lake, they’re growing worse.”

“I met Setter. I don’t like him or trust him, Hettie. He said some hard things about Ben’s friend, a cowboy from Nevada.”

“I hate him, Ina,” flashed Hettie, with a dark flush. “I could tell you a reason outside of his lies about Ben.”

“You needn’t. I’ve met and seen many men these four years of my absence…. Hettie, I just cannot believe Ben would steal. I can’t.”

“Ina, I know he wouldn’t,” rejoined Hettie, eloquently. “It’s not easy to tell how I know, but it’s in my heart.”

“Have your family lost faith in Ben?”

“Yes, all except mother. But it’s hope now, more than real faith. Father has broken her. Ben was his pride, if you remember. The disappointment has made father old…. Oh, such a mess to make over a boy’s love of horses! I grow sick when I think of it.”

“Well, Hettie, it seems we’re of the same mind,” went on Ina, soberly. “Now it’s not what we must do, but how.”