"Before they are all here! I'm not afraid! Don't you see?" Her hands were on the pommel; she was in mad haste to escape the crowd almost upon her. The stranger knelt, held out his hand, tossed her in the saddle and she was off, Starlight trotting decently and quietly, the quivering of his flesh and an indignant snort alone betraying his rashness. But close behind her and then abreast of her rode her rescuer. "I must see how he goes at first," he apologized, and the mastery of his tone added to Frances' discomfiture. She rode with crimson cheeks and downcast eyes, a square--two; she could stand it no longer; she drew rein at the corner. "I thank you very much," she said as courteously as she could; "I am going this way," and she turned off. She took the quietest way home in bitterness of spirit. Never could there have been a worse moment for such adventure. The affair would be known from town to farm, from farm to mountain top, by sunset. There was the spice of danger in it that would insure its telling, and the talk would lose nothing by its many recitals. It would be told to the young man's advantage, too. None of the glory would redound to her. There was no excuse for her being where she had been, no pardon for such an escapade. It would be made the point even for a parent's caution. The thought was maddening. She crept to her room, glad to close the home doors about her. Susan found her there. "Yo' pa done 'phoned up dis bery minute he's gwine bring company home ter dinnah." "Very well!" said Frances spiritlessly. "Wants ter hab anything 'ticular?" "Oh, whatever you want, Susan; you know as well as I do." "Hm!" said Susan going down the stairway, "ain't no talk of floating islan' an' cake now, but I'se gwine hab sumpin' good all de same. Marse Robert he laks good things ter eat, ef he doesn't mek any fuss. I'se gwine see dey's dyar on de table as long as de meal holds out in de barrel." Frances sat down in her room. There was no fire there and she was chilled and miserable. The physical discomfiture chimed with her mood and she was resentful of the bright sunshine that came streaming to her feet. When she got up and took off her riding habit, she dressed without a thought of the guest her father was bringing to dine with him. She heard the opening of the heavy front door, footsteps in the hall, and her father's voice in pleased tones of cordial hospitality. She went down to the library. The door was opened, but the portière hung in heavy folds across the inner side; when she pulled it away she looked full into the face of her hero of the morning, who stood in the middle of the room, looking back at her with the amazement on his face which must have shown on hers.