Fessenden scouted about the place, smiling to himself at the absurdity of his own action. There was nothing to indicate which room was Betty's, and at a venture he tossed a handful of gravel against the panes of the corner room--then another. Betty's head and shoulders were the response, framed in the glow of the lamp gleaming through the white curtain behind her. The face, delicately oval, and the slender throat, seemed wrought of gold. "'So shines a good deed in a naughty world,'" said Fessenden aloud. "Who's there?" she called. "It's I." "Oh, _you_!" "Yes. Can you came down a minute?" "No." "Please come down, Betty. I want to see you about something." "No-o, I can't. Is it anything important?" "Immensely important. You aren't vexed with me still, are you?" "Of course not. And, Bob White, I didn't tell you yesterday, but I did appreciate it very much." "Good!--but what?" "The way you jumped out of the carriage and seized her horse, when she was so belligerent. It was very capable in you." "If it weren't dark down here, you could see me blushing. Come down and see." "No. Bob White, you haven't come around here like a Romeo to--to say good-by, have you?" "Heaven forbid, Betty! I want to ask you to go on a picnic with _me_ to-morrow, in my sailboat." "Oh, goody! Hum-m! I don't know. For how long?" "All day. We can sail down to Rincoteague Island and back." "Who's to go?" "Only you and I, of course." "I'm afraid that wouldn't be quite--well, quite--" "Oh, I see. Then your aunt is invited, too, of course--but reluctantly." "We'll come," she said, with decision. "Shall we bring the luncheon?" "No. The sloop has a lot of stuff on board now. Besides, there used to be a hotel on Rincoteague--such as it was. I'll have the _Wisp_ in Piney Cove at nine to-morrow. We must start early, you know." "We'll be there. Thank you very much." "Betty, do come out a minute--long enough to shake hands. I haven't seen you all day." "You funny man!" she said. "If I weren't--a farmer's girl, I should think you were flirting." He was unable to muster an instant reply. A shade, snapped sharply down, cut the fair hair and laughing face from his view. There was nothing left for him to do but to make his way back to Sandywood, which he did very thoughtfully. After dinner the men grouped themselves in easy chairs at a corner of the porch, to enjoy their cigarettes. Harry Cleborne drew his chair to Fessenden's. "Will you try one of my home-growns, Mr. Fessenden?" he proffered. "That tobacco was raised on my own plantation." Fessenden accepted a cigar, suddenly conscious that Cleborne's unwonted attentions must have an ulterior motive. "Thank you. You're a Marylander, then?" "Virginian," returned the other. "My home's in old Albemarle. I've seen a good deal of Maryland the last year or two, though." His eyes strayed toward the white gowns of the women. "Maryland has its attractions," said Fessenden. "Yes, that's so--even for you?"