_Bob White! Daylight, Bob White! Daylight!_" "At eve, when first the fading glow Of setting sun foretold the night, The tender call came, soft and low, Across the dying light: (Too sweet for cry, Too brief for song, 'Twas but a long Contented sigh) _Bob White! Good-night, Bob White! Good-night!_" Fessenden applauded softly, and his young hostess smiled appreciation. "Tell me about yourself, Bob White," she said. "Are you 'tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor'?" "Betty, perhaps _you_ can tell _me_ something. I got away to you without letting any one at Sandywood know, by going for a sail in my sloop." "A ve-ry good idea." "Don't be too sure. After I'd gotten well off, one of the house-party--a girl--coolly appeared from the cabin. She'd been bound to come with me, you see." "Why?" "That's the problem. She was very mysterious, and persistent, no name! When we landed in Piney Cove, she insisted upon following me." "Goodness me!" "We had the most extraordinary time--I fastened her in the cabin by main force. I don't understand it at all. She said she knew I was coming to meet you, and seemed very much wrought up about it. Hold on! She didn't mention your name, but she said she knew who it was I had my appointment with." "How could she guess?" "We happened to be standing together when your little friend, Jimmy Jones, brought your note. She said this afternoon that she recognized the style of the envelope." Betty's guitar slipped from her lap to the floor. "Bob White, Bob White!" she exclaimed. "What's her name?" "Didn't I say? She's a Miss Yarnell--Miss Madge Yarnell, from Baltimore. Do you know anything about her?" The girl stooped to rescue the guitar. Her warm cheek touched his as he, too, groped for it, and both recoiled a little consciously--Fessenden in amusement at his own confusion. "Do you know about Miss Yarnell?" he repeated. "I've heard her name. A girl--the woman who gave me that song--knows who she is. Isn't she the girl who tore down the flag?" "Yes, that's the one. Can you imagine why she pursued me so? Do you suppose she really recognized your writing paper? And even if she did, what is it to her?" She twanged a careless chord or two. "Oh, perhaps she was vexed because you didn't stay at the house-party," she suggested; "because you preferred White Cottage to Sandywood." After a while he struck a match and looked at his watch. "Nine o'clock. I must be going. If I stay much longer, the Cresaps will be sending out their launch to tow me home. You know, I'm supposed to be becalmed out in the bay. I hate to go. I've had a bully time." "Really?"