"All right, I am game. Suppose you drive a while." Turning to Doris, he said, "Rosalie is going to drive a while, and I am coming back to help hold down the back seat. Don't argue. You know very well the back seat is too bumpy for one little light girl by herself. You need not hurry, Rosalie," he said, surrendering the wheel. "Doris is cross, and I have to reason with her. It takes time. You need not listen unless you particularly wish." He got into the back seat serenely enough, and looked astonished when Doris withdrew to the farthest corner of the roomy seat. "What is the matter? Does the seat slope over to that corner? That is a shame, I must have it fixed." And he sat down very comfortably in the middle of the seat, where Doris could not possibly keep the hem of her gown from touching him, nor even her rigid elbow, though it plainly was her desire. Rosalie drove with a nicety of concentration that was most commendable, but Doris was stiffly mute to his overtures. And in spite of his persistent and determined tender chaffing, he was really calling down anathemas on the head of the offending bishop by the time they reached Aurora. "Let's find a place to eat. I am hungry. I have done a hard day's work. Digging ditches has nothing on that," he said to Rosalie. She nodded sympathetically. "Think well before it is too late," she warned. "Women are always like that--they go by spells. Sometimes they are and then sometimes they are not." "Chiefly they are not, I perceive," he said doggedly. "She liked me well enough while I remained a mystery." "Well, of course--" "If you say bishop to me again I'll stone you," He cried, and Rosalie only laughed. By this time Doris had finished patting her hair before the small mirror in her bag, and joined them quietly. But she was not hungry, she drank two cups of very strong coffee--and Mr. MacCammon suddenly was not hungry either. Rosalie munched comfortably through six courses and when she reached her ice-cream and macaroons she told MacCammon he might run along and get the gas if he liked while she was finishing, which he promptly did. As soon as he was gone she looked at her sister slyly. "General--I--may I confide something--in you?" Doris stiffened instantly, and turned a frigid face that way. "Yes," she said somberly, "go on, let's get it over with. I have been expecting it for some time." A mischievous smile darted to Rosalie's eyes, but the shielding lashes hid it. "I--Do you think I am too young to fall in love?" "No," said Doris desperately, "I do not. I don't think anybody is too young, or too old, or--anything." "Age has nothing to do with love, has it?" "No, age hasn't, nor brains, nor sense, nor dignity, nor--sometimes I think even _religion_ hasn't anything to do with love." "Of course I may be mistaken--" "No chance."