"Supper!" cries Harry decidedly. "Supper? Of course I want some also," laughs Miss Travenion merrily. "It's going on now," and she places her fingers on Lawrence's arm, though she is very well aware that the privilege of escorting her to midnight refreshment will be considered by Ollie as his "very own." But Erma is just tasting of the fruit called "first love," and will eat it, though it cost her as much as the apple did Mother Eve. So, seated in a shady nook made by two flowering shrubs on the balcony, she watches and admires the athletic figure of the gentleman she has made her hero ever since she saw him save Ferdie's life, as he forages for her. This he does with as much vigor as one of Sherman's bummers on the March to the Sea, and with such a curious knowledge of her tastes that the girl wonders how he guesses all her pet dainties,--not knowing that the gentleman now her escort had had his eyes upon her during every meal she had taken between Omaha and Ogden. "Why, this is marvellous--just what I wanted. How did you guess?" laughs the young lady as he places his spoils before her, and the two sit down together to make a very quiet but delightfully _tete-a-tete_ meal, strains of music coming faintly to them, and the Chinese lanterns throwing but little light upon them. Then their conversation, which is becoming low and confidential, is suddenly broken in upon by Mr. Livingston, who approaches, saying with a savage tone in his usually placid voice, "Erma, I've been looking for you everywhere. Mother has been waiting to take you to supper with us for an hour!" "Thanks to Captain Lawrence," replies Miss Travenion, who likes this gentleman's tone little, but his interruption less, "I am already very well provided for." "Ah--with both supper and flirtation," laughs Oliver sneeringly. "Not at all," cries the young lady. "A flirtation is where they say a great deal more than they mean." "But here," interjects Lawrence, whose heart is very full of the loveliness upon which he gazes with all his might, "I mean a great deal more than I have said." This remark, emphasized by a very telling glance of his dark eyes, brings furious blushes upon Erma and consternation upon Oliver, who loses his head and gasps, "Why, it is almost a declaration!" "Would you like me to make it stronger?" asks Harry quite pointedly, his remark to the gentleman, but his eyes upon the lady. But women in these social crises have generally more _savoir faire_ than men. Miss Travenion says coolly, "I fear we must postpone this _jeu d'esprit_. I see Mr. Kruger looking for me. The Virginia reel is beginning. Mr. Livingston, will you take me to him?"