He was descending the last terrace when little Gladys ran out from her shady playground and, holding out her arms to him, begged for a ride. He caught her up and swinging her on to his shoulder held her there securely as he hastened on toward the summerhouse, whence he had seen a flutter of Jean's white gown. Gladys was wild with excitement, and her shrill little cries of pleasure roused Jean from her reverie. She shifted her position a little to see what was going on, and then started up and moved forward to the arched doorway of the summerhouse and stood waiting for them. From her elevated position, Gladys waved frantically to her and then flung her arms tightly around Farr's neck. "That is hot work, little one," he declared with a laugh, as he deposited the child on the ground and raised his hat to Jean. "Oh, it was grand!" cried Gladys, capering around and shaking her golden curls into a tangled mass. Jean smiled and extended her hand to Farr, but her words were for Gladys. "I have not a doubt of it, darling," she said, "but I fear Mr. Farr found you a very heavy load to carry this hot day." Gladys' head drooped, and she gave Farr a shy glance from out of the corners of her eyes. "Was I vewy heavy?" she asked, in such a plaintive little voice that he had hard work to keep his face straight as he hastened to reassure her. "Is not this a sylvan retreat, and are you not glad you came?" Jean queried, looking over her shoulder at him as she led the way into the summerhouse. "Glad!" he echoed. "Glad does not begin to express it." "Wait until you see how sleepy and stupid I am before you make such a rash assertion. Evidently you are in no way disheartened," she added, as Farr, looking somewhat incredulous, took his place beside her on the low seat. "Not one whit," he replied softly. "It would be a very novel experience for me to find you stupid." Jean turned a quizzical glance upon him. "What an extravagant compliment. Where did you learn such gallantry?" "When first I saw you," he returned, and although he spoke lightly there was an undercurrent of earnestness in his tone. Gladys, who had been chasing a butterfly around and around the summerhouse, now stopped at the doorway and peeped in. She lingered a moment, tilting her head, first on one side and then on the other, and smiling encouragingly on the twain. Then, as neither Jean nor Farr took any notice of her, she twisted about and scampered off toward the playground. Larry and Willie hailed her with delight, and anyone watching the three little heads so close together would have known that there was mischief brewing. "I know some splendid fun," Willie was saying in a cautiously lowered voice. "I read lots about it in a book. It's all about flyin' machines an' human birds. Let's go over to the orchard, an' I'll tell you how to play it." "Me, too, Willie, please," piped Gladys.