"And now," she interrupted, "let us talk of other things. Of ships, and shoes, and sealing-wax--" "All the topics in the world," he replied, "can lead to but one with me--" "Ships?" asked the girl. "For honeymoons," he suggested. "Shoes?" "In some circles of society, I believe they are flung at bridal parties." "And sealing-wax?" "On the license, isn't it?" he queried. "I'll not try you on cabbage and kings," laughed the girl. "Please, oh, please, don't fail me. You won't, will you?" Her face was serious. "You see, it means so very much to me." "Fail you?" cried Magee. "I'd hardly do that now. In ten minutes that package will be in your hands--along with my fate, my lady." "I shall be so relieved." She turned her face away, there was a faint flush in the cheek toward Mr. Magee. "And--happy," she whispered under her breath. They were then at the great front door of Baldpate Inn. CHAPTER XII WOE IN NUMBER SEVEN Inside, before the office fire, Miss Thornhill read a magazine in the indolent fashion so much affected at Baldpate Inn during the heated term; while the mayor of Reuton chatted amiably with the ponderously coy Mrs. Norton. Into this circle burst the envoys to the hermitage, flushed, energetic, snowflaked. "Hail to the chef who in triumph advances!" cried Mr. Magee. He pointed to the door, through which Mr. Max was leading the captured Mr. Peters. "You got him, didyu?" rasped Mrs. Norton. "Without the use of anesthetics," answered Magee. "Everybody ready for one of Mr. Peters' inimitable lunches?" "Put me down at the head of the list," contributed the mayor. Myra Thornhill laid down her magazine, and fixed her great black eyes upon the radiant girl in corduroy. "And was the walk in the morning air," she asked, "all you expected?" "All, and much more," laughed Miss Norton, mischievously regarding the man who had babbled to her of love on the mountain. "By the way, enjoy Mr. Peters while you can. He's back for just one day." "Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow the cook leaves, as the fellow says," supplemented Mr. Max, removing his overcoat. "How about a quick lunch, Peters?" inquired Magee. "Out of what, I'd like to know," put in Mrs. Norton. "Not a thing in the house to eat. Just like a man." "You didn't look in the right place, ma'am," replied Mr. Peters with relish. "I got supplies for a couple of days in the kitchen." "Well, what's the sense in hiding 'em?" the large lady inquired. "It ain't hiding--it's system," explained Mr. Peters. "Something women don't understand." He came close to Mr. Magee, and whispered low: "You didn't warn me there was another of 'em." "The last, on my word of honor," Magee told him. "The last," sneered Mr. Peters. "There isn't any last up here." And with a sidelong glance at the new Eve in his mountain Eden, he turned away to the kitchen.