"Well, I rather guess I am not going into your old house and tell your old aunt anything! I'm going to get right out here this minute; and you're good and going to _let_ me out, too, or I'll scream bloody murder, and tell it all over this town how you went out there to meet those boys. You haven't got any witnesses, and _I have_, remember!" said Myrtle, suddenly feeling courageous now that she was back among familiar streets. But Leslie turned sharply into the little drive, and brought up the car in a flood of light at the end of the terrace. "Now, get out!" she ordered, swinging the door open and flashing her little revolver about again at the angry girl. "O Leslie!" pleaded the victim, quickly quelled by the sight of the cold steel, and thrilled with the memory of that shot whistling by her into the road a few hours before. "Get out!" said Leslie coolly as the front door was flung open and Julia Cloud peered through the brightness of the porch light into the darkness. "Get out!" Leslie held the cold steel nearer to Myrtle's face, and the girl shuddered, and got out. "Now go into the house!" she ordered; and shuddering, shivering, with a frightened glance behind her and a fearful glance ahead, she walked straight into the wondering, shocked presence of Julia Cloud, who threw the door open wide and stepped aside to let them in. Leslie, with the revolver still raised, and pointed toward the other girl, came close behind Myrtle, who sidled hastily around to get behind Miss Cloud. "Why, Leslie! What is the matter?" gasped Julia Cloud. "Tell her!" ordered Leslie, the revolver still pointed straight at Myrtle. "What shall I tell?" gasped the other girl, turning a white, miserable face toward Miss Cloud as if to appeal to her leniency. But there was a severity in Julia Cloud's face now after her long hours of anxiety that boded no good for the cause of all her alarm. "Tell her the whole story!" ordered the fierce young voice of Leslie. "Why, we went out to take a ride," began Myrtle, looking up with her old braggadocio. There had seldom been a time when Myrtle had not been able to get out of a situation by use of her wily tongue. "Tell it all," said Leslie, looking across the barrel of her weapon. "Tell who wanted to go on that ride." "Why, yes, I asked Leslie to take me. I--we--well, that is--I wanted to meet a friend." "Tell it straight!" ordered Leslie. "Why, of course I didn't tell Leslie I expected to meet them--him. I wasn't just sure he could make the arrangements. I meant to tell her when we got out. And when we met him--and my cousin--it was my cousin I was to meet--you see I'm--we--he----"