"Yes, that's a very good name for it," returned Linda promptly. "Even I, Fred," she added humbly, "even I have had some inside information. In not getting me," she added gently, "you will get something better if we're all thinking right." Silence, during which Whitcomb gloomily uprooted such long grasses as grew near him. "I have no expectation of marrying anyone," said Linda, "and you are a hero in my eyes to-day, if that is any comfort to you." Whitcomb lifted a frowning, obstinate gaze to hers. "Holdfast's a good dog," he said sententiously. Presently he spoke again. "It's time for King to eat. I must go." "I'll walk with you as far as Aunt Belinda's." Whitcomb helped her gather up books and work and they moved away together. CHAPTER XXII THE PENITENT Blanche Aurora caught sight of the two strolling through the field toward the house and she called her mistress's attention to them. "There's the man I told you come, Miss Barry," she said eagerly; and Miss Belinda pulled down her glasses and viewed the approach. "Why, if that isn't Mr. Whitcomb!" she said. She groaned. "I don't think I've got a supper for a man; I do hate to cater for the great, walloping things." She craned her neck, keeping well out of range of the window in the forlorn hope that the threat might pass by. Forlorn, indeed. What place was there for the visitor to go to? To her surprise the young man's firm step lingered but a moment at the door, then from her vantage-ground she saw him lift his hat, jump off the piazza, and walk away. From another window Blanche Aurora's round eyes were watching too, with an unwinking gaze. She wished to see whether the stranger would seek the rock cliff; but evidently Miss Linda had been glad to see him, for he swung energetically across the grass in the opposite direction. Miss Barry, guiltily conscious of her inhospitable attitude, and remembering with a rush the helpfulness with which Whitcomb had smoothed her path away from Chicago, met Linda as she entered. What meant the glowing expression in her niece's face? Had there really been more than appeared in her friendship for Fred Whitcomb? "That was Mr. Whitcomb, wasn't it? Why didn't he come in? What a surprise to see him here," said Miss Barry. "After all," she added mentally, "those broiled lobsters would probably have satisfied him." Linda put an arm about her aunt's shoulders and drew her into the living-room. There was a roseate gleam in the dusky distance as Blanche Aurora withdrew through the swing door. Miss Barry could feel a nervous tension in the arm about her, and as she looked curiously into the pale, excited face she felt certain that portentous news was impending. "I don't care if she has,"--the swift thought fled through her mind. "He's young and only beginning life, but he's a good boy. I like him; and I grudged the poor fellow a meal!" "Yes, it was Fred," said Linda, seating herself and her captive on a wicker divan.