“But he isn’t here!” Tavia exclaimed, when they entered the big restaurant for the midday meal. “And I remember now he said last evening that he would probably be down town almost all day to-day—trying to sell that property of his, you know.” “Who, dear?” asked Dorothy, with a far-away look on her face. “Peleg Swift!” snapped Tavia. “You know very well of whom I am talking. Garry Owen!” and she hummed a few bars of the old, old march. Garry certainly was not present; but Dorothy still smiled. They went out again and purchased a few more things. When they returned late in the afternoon the young Westerner was visible in the lobby the moment the girls came through the doorway. But he was busy. He did not even see them. He was talking with two men of pronounced New York business type who might have been brokers or Wall Street men. All three sat on a lounge near the elevators, and Dorothy heard one of the strangers say crisply, as she and Tavia waited for a car: “That’s our top price, I think, Mr. Knapp. And, of course, we cannot pay you any money until I have seen the land, save the hundred for the option. I shall be out in a fortnight, I believe. It must hang fire until then, even at this price.” “Well, Mr. Stiffbold—it’s a bet!” Garry said, and Dorothy could imagine the secret sigh he breathed. Evidently, he was not getting the price for the wornout ranch that he had hoped. The two girls went up in the elevator and later made their dinner toilet. To-night Dorothy was the one who took the most pains in her primping; but Tavia said never a word. Nevertheless, she “looked volumes.” They were downstairs again not much later than half past six. Not a sign of Garry Knapp either in the lobby or in the dining-room. The girls ate their dinner slowly and “lived in hopes,” as Tavia expressed it. Both were frankly hoping Garry would appear. Tavia was grateful to him for the part he had taken in the recovery of her bag; and, too, he was “nice.” Dorothy felt that she had misjudged the young Westerner, and she was fired with a desire to be particularly pleasant to him so as to salve over her secret compunctions of conscience. “‘He cometh not, she said,’” Tavia complained. “What’s the matter with the boy, anyway? Can he be eating in the cafê with those two men?” “Oh, Tavia!” suddenly exclaimed Dorothy. “You said he was going home to-day.” “Oh—ah—yes. He did say he expected to get out for the West again some time to-day——” “Maybe he’s go-o-one!” and Dorothy’s phrase was almost a wail. “Goodness! Never! Without looking us up and saying a word of good-bye?” Dorothy got up with determination. “I am going to find out,” she said. “I feel that I would like to see Mr. Knapp again.” “Well! if _I_ said a thing like that about a young man——” However, Tavia let the remark trail off into silence and followed her chum. As they came out of the dining-room the broad shoulders and broad-brimmed hat of Garry Knapp were going through the street door!