“Better put something on it,” advised Peaches. “Say, I’ve been――I mean I’ve got an idea. (Now cut out the low humor.) I’ve been and arranged for a sea-going Ford for this evening and it’s to pick us up at the corner of State and Jewell Streets at quarter past eight.” “Us?” asked Barry. “Yes――that’s the idea I referred to. It might look funny if I set out alone, in case any one did see me, but if we both went no one would think much about it. Get it?” “I suppose so. I’m too blamed tired to follow the――the intricacies of your――your reasoning, Peaches.” “That’s all right. You leave the reasoning to me, old scout, and just obey orders. First thing, put something on that messy-looking cheek if you don’t want it to be sore.” “It’s sore already, you coot! Waterman, or whoever it was, shakes a mean shoe!” Nevertheless Barry applied witch-hazel to the abrasion. “They told Mr. Benjy that Davy was coming,” said Peaches. “The doctor said it wouldn’t do any harm. He’s as excited as the dickens, Betty says, but he’s all chirped up, too, so I guess that’s all right. Gee! I hope nothing happens to keep Davy from getting here!” Barry felt like a conspirator when he and Peaches started for the village about eight o’clock. Peaches insisted that they take it slowly and appear to be out for a stroll, and he made Barry pause at almost every window they passed and stare for long moments at the uninteresting displays therein. The Wessex police force was popularly supposed to consist of one member, but as a matter of fact it contained three, and one of the three was on duty at State and Elm Streets, directing traffic. To be sure, the traffic was not excessive and the officer stood not in the middle of the junction of the two thoroughfares but on the curb, where he was usually companioned by several of the town’s citizens who appeared to have no home ties. Barry thought the policeman viewed him and Peaches with marked interest as they loitered past on the opposite sidewalk, but Peaches said it was only the imagination of a guilty conscience that gave him the impression. Two blocks farther on, where the town’s residences gave place to empty lots, a small car stood directly under an electric light. “The gold-plated, ivory-mounted dumb-bell!” muttered the leader of the expedition, disgustedly. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t set off rockets, for fear some one mightn’t see him!”