"I am paying you at a rate agreed upon for the use of your land and small bank balance handed me, and want all of it.

The rent is a fair one in face of the fact that a good deal of the farm consisted of virgin prairie, which can be had from the Government for nothing." He said nothing further, and soon after he went out Courthorne went to sleep, but Winston sat by an open window with a burned-out cigar in his hand staring at the prairie while the night wore through, until he rose with a shiver in the chill of early morning to commence his task again.
A few days later he saw Courthorne safely into a sleeping car with a ticket for Chicago in his pocket, and felt that a load had been lifted off his shoulders when the train rolled out of the little prairie station.

Another week had passed when, riding home one evening, he stopped at the Grange, and as it happened found Maud Barrington alone.
She received him without any visible restraint, but he realized that all that had passed at their last meeting was to be tacitly ignored.
"Has your visitor recovered yet ?" she asked.
"So far as to leave my place, and I was not anxious to keep him," said Winston, with a little laugh.

"I am sorry he disturbed you." Maud Barrington seemed thoughtful.

"I scarcely think the man was to blame." "No ?" said Winston.
The girl looked at him curiously, and shook her head.