"Ha--that's the question! Over on Greylock the farmers' sons call him Shooting Star', alias 'Starry'," with a boyish laugh, "because when they were awf'ly hard up for a player in the last ball game of the series against Willard College, having lost their second baseman and substitute too, by gracious! he breezed along, an' the captain, hearing he had played on a college team, roped him in ... an'--an', what do you know, but he won the game for that mountain team with a home run! A home run over the left field fence! Bully!" "But, surely, _they_ know his--real--name!" Pem's aloof absorption in that fell like fog-drip even upon the glow from that left field fence. "Maybe they do--and maybe they don't! He refused it to the fans. And when the Greylock coach cornered him he palmed it off as Selkirk. But my cousin who's pitcher on the team says in his opinion that was just 'throwing a tub to a whale'--something fishy about it, see?" Stud winked. "For 'Starry' an' his father--who's a queer fish, if ever there was one--had a camp then up on Greylock peak, and the postmaster in charge o' the Greylock mail owned that he received letters for them addressed to another name--only he couldn't--wouldn't--give it away." "_Wha-at!_" Pem's hand suddenly smote her lips. Her wide eyes were no patchwork now. Stud had not thought that a girl's eyes could be so blue. It almost gave him the "Willies", their remote, peculiar sky-glow, as if afar--afar--they were seeing things. "What!" she gasped again, while that vivid glow faded, became bluish, blank, the tint of "Moonshine"--of a strange, wild, nondescript dream. Moonshine that seemed flooding her whole being! And yet--although she was a quick-witted girl--it was too vague for her to draw from it one clear thought--only an uneasy, unreal, absolutely breathless feeling! And then the queer, air-drawn sensation as suddenly passed--and with it the blue moon which had momentarily turned her world to nothing--"shooed" off by a very real, very tangible, quite pressing apprehension: "He--he's not coming to the da-nce?" She sprang up hurriedly, pointing to the boat below; to its one preoccupied figure, clad neither in rough sweater nor May-fly gaudiness, now, but, if the sunset didn't exaggerate, in a very becoming dark suit. "Humph! I don't know! I guess he is! Didn't think he could pull it off for some reason or other--" Stud's shoulders were shrugged. "But, maybe, he's found where there's a will there's a way." "Why-y?" The girl's lips were parted breathlessly, her foot involuntarily stamping.