Miss Yarnell wheeled her horse. "It was real! And I've been wasting time--wasting time!" Going helter-skelter, she was out of sight before Fessenden had time to resume his seat in the carriage. "Whew!" he said, as they resumed their jog-trot pace. "She _is_ a queer fish! But, Betty, why tell a tarradiddle, even to get rid of her?" "I didn't." "I mean about the telegram you sent me." "I didn't send you one." "What! One came--signed by Charles Danton, too, just as we arranged last night." "I had nothing to do with it. After you went away, I remembered that I didn't know your real name, and I was afraid a telegram for 'Bob White, Esquire,' left in the servants' hands, would go wrong. So I didn't send it. I wondered how you'd get away to meet me, but I knew you would contrive some excuse." In his mind's eye, he saw the address of the telegram, "Thomas Fessenden," yet it was true that his identity was unknown to his companion--through her own caprice, to be sure. He gave a long whistle. "Then that wire really was from Danton. By Jove! if he wanted my advice about anything, he ought to have let me know in time. Confound him, it's too late now! It serves him right." He turned to look for sympathy in Betty's eyes, only to find there a light that baffled him. "Are you angry with me about anything?" "I'm not sure whether I am or not. Men are so--so bad, and so presumptuous." "Good heavens! Have _I_ done anything?" But in spite of all he could do to solve this new Betty, she set him down at the foot of the lane a very perplexed young man. VII At Sandywood, Fessenden was little surprised to learn that Miss Yarnell had been summoned home to Baltimore--on account of sickness in her family. "I think she must have gotten a telegram at the station," said Polly Cresap. "She'd been out riding, and when she came in she was in quite a flutter, and told us she had to go home immediately. I really didn't understand just who was sick. We're to send her things after her. You didn't see her at Sandywood Station, did you, Tom? She must have taken the same train you came in on." "No," returned Fessenden, truthfully enough. "She's rather a headlong sort, don't you think?" "Yes, I suppose so. But, poor girl, she has a good deal on her mind! You know, before this disgraceful affair of Charlie Danton's with----" "Polly!" said her husband warningly. "I don't care, Pinck. You know everybody says so." "But nobody knows anything, my dear." "At any rate," she rattled on, "before this affair, Madge was quite fond of Charlie Danton, and now I believe she's eating her heart out." "Remember, Fessenden has just been up to Baltimore to meet Danton," cautioned Cresap. "How do you know it wasn't about this very thing?" "Oh, goodness, Tom! Am I rushing in where angels fear to tread?" "Not at all," he assured her. "Danton didn't mention the matter at all."