"Ashamed of you!" he repeated, and something in his tone deepened the color in her cheeks into a crimson tide. "Lou, look at me!" Obediently she raised her eyes for an instant; then lowered them again quickly, and after a pause she said in a very small voice: "All right, Jim. I--I'll go. I guess I wouldn't just want to be a--a quitter, after all." It was mid-afternoon when they walked into Hunnikers and although they had come ten long miles with only a stop for a picnic lunch between, they bore no traces of fatigue. Rather they appeared to have been treading on air, and although Jim had scrupulously avoided any further reference to the future, there was a certain buoyant assurance about him which indicated that in his own mind, at least, there remained no room for doubt. He needed all the assurance he could muster as, after ensconcing Lou at the soda counter in the drug-store, he approached the telephone booth farthest from her ears and closed the door carefully behind him. Lou consumed her soda to its last delectable drop, glanced down anxiously at the worn, but spotless, little silk gown to see if she had spilled any upon it, and then wandered over to the showcase. Jim's voice came to her indistinguishably once or twice, but it was a full half-hour before he emerged from the booth. He looked wilted but triumphant, and he beamed blissfully as he came toward her, mopping his brow. He suspected that at the other end of the wire a certain gray-haired, aristocratic old lady was having violent hysterics to the immediate concern of three maids and an asthmatic Pekinese, but it did not disturb his equanimity. "It's all right," he announced. "Aunt Emmy expects you; I didn't tell you, did I, that the lady I'm taking you to is my aunt? No matter. She's awfully easy if you get on the right side of her; I've always managed her beautifully ever since I was a kid, and you'll have her rolling over and playing dead in no time. Fifteen miles more to go, Lou, and we'll be----" "Hello, there, Jim." An oil-soaked and greasy glove clapped his shoulder and as he turned, the same voice, suddenly altered, stammered: "Oh, I beg your pardon----" "'Lo, Harry!" Jim turned to greet a tall, lean individual more tanned than himself, with little, fine, weather lines about his eyes and an abrupt quickness of gesture which denoted his hair-triggered nerves. "What are you doing in this man's town?" "Motoring down from the Hilton's," the other responded. "Pete was coming with me, but at the last minute he decided to stay over the week-end. I'm off to Washington to-night to see about my passport; sailing next Wednesday for Labrador, you know." "Then you're alone?" Jim turned. "Miss Lacey, let me present Mr. Van Ness; he spends his time trailing all over the earth to find something to kill. Miss Lacey is a young friend of my aunt's; I'm taking her down to her for a visit." The explanation sounded somewhat involved, but Mr. Van Ness seemed to grasp it, and bowed.