“We're going to walk about a bit,” Chester announced, invading the garage. “The girls insist that you come. Where are your eyes, man? If Pauline bores you--I admit that she's a trifle persistent, but she's jolly good company, I think--try Mrs. Lessing. She's delightful, and not the pursuing style at all--she's learned better. She hasn't shown the slightest interest in you all morning. That ought to attract you.” “I'm going to try a bit of adjustment on this timer now that Mac's out of the way. Go along, and don't bother me.” Burns was in his shirt-sleeves again and spoke gruffly. His cap was off, and thick locks lay damply against his moist brow; in his eyes sparkled enthusiasm but not for women. “You certainly are a hopeless case,” and Chester went back to his party. “We might as well not have a bachelor along,” mourned Pauline. “Four women--with only two old married men to look after them--it's a shame.” “But we're both of us much handsomer than Red Pepper Burns,” asserted James Macauley, Junior. “And I've hardly spoken a word to my wife since I started--that sort of thing ought to content you.” “It doesn't. And neither of you is half as good-looking as Doctor Burns. He has the most interesting profile I ever saw--and I ought to know--I seldom catch sight of his full face.” “I shouldn't suppose an interesting profile, whatever that is, would offset a shock of fire-red hair. Now, both Chester's hair and mine--” “His hair isn't fire-red. It's a--rather strong--auburn.” Macauley shouted and the rest laughed with him. “Rather strong! I should say it was. I've been worried about having him sit near the gasoline tank, it brings his hair so close to a high combustible. But it has one advantage: if we don't get home before dark we shan't need to light up. Red's torch of a head will do the trick; we can come in by the refulgence from that.” “I shall be sitting in its light going back, anyhow,” Miss Hempstead exulted. “Much good it will do you,” prophesied Chester.