Then the surging notes of the organ died away, the bishop ascended the pulpit, and the congregation settled down to hear the sermon. From that time on Nance ceased to be discreet. There was glance for glance, and smile for smile, and the innumerable wireless messages that youth has exchanged since ardent eyes first sought each other across forbidden spaces. It was not until the end of the sermon that Nance awoke to the fact that it was high time for Cinderella to be speeding on her way. Seizing a moment when the choir's back was turned to the congregation, she slipped noiselessly out of the cathedral and was fleeing down the steps when she came face to face with Monte Pearce. "Caught at last!" he exclaimed, planting himself firmly in her way. "I've been playing watchdog for Mac for three Sundays. What are you doing in town?" "In town?" "Yes; we thought you were on the road with the 'Follies.' When did you get back?" "You're seeking information, Mr. Monte Carlo," said Nance, with a smile. "Let me by. I've got to go home." "I'll go with you. Where do you live?" "Under my hat." "Well, I don't know a nicer place to be." Monte laughed and looked at her and kept on laughing, until she felt herself blushing up to the roots of her hair. "Honest, Mr. Monte, I got to go on," she said appealingly. "I'm in no end of a hurry." "I can go as fast as you can," said Monte, his cane tapping each step as he tripped briskly down beside her. "I've got my orders from Mac. I'm to stay with you, if you won't stay with me. Which way?" In consternation for fear the congregation should be dismissed before she could get away, and determined not to let him know where she lived, she jumped aboard a passing car. "So be it!" said her plump companion, settling himself comfortably on the back seat beside her. "Now tell your Uncle Monte all about it!" "There's nothing to tell!" declared Nance, with the blush coming back. She was finding it distinctly agreeable to be out alone like this with a grandly sophisticated young gentleman who wore a light linen suit with shoes to match, and whose sole interest seemed to center upon her and her affairs. "But you know there is!" he persisted. "What made you give us the shake that night of the ball?" Nance refused to say; so he changed the subject. "How's Miss Birdie?" "Give it up. Haven't seen her since you have." "What? Didn't you go on with the show that next morning?" "No." "And you've been in town all summer?" She nodded, and her companion gave a low, incredulous whistle. "Well, I'll be darned!" he said. "And old Mac sending letters and telegrams every few minutes and actually following the 'Follies' to Boston!" "Birdie was with 'em up to two months ago," said Nance. "Mac wasn't after Birdie!" said Monte. "He hasn't had but one idea in his cranium since that night of the carnival ball. I never saw him so crazy about a girl as he is about you."