“Say, I didn’t like to call you away,” remarked Lanky, as Frank joined him. “But I wanted to say that as we have that run this afternoon, and there’s going to be no session to-morrow, perhaps we’d better postpone our trip to Budd’s Corners, till the morning. How does that suit you, Frank?” “All right,” replied the other, briskly; “I couldn’t go to-night anyhow, for Minnie made a date with me to take her out boat-riding in the full of the moon. Is that all you wanted to say, Lanky?” “Yes; and now return to your pleasant little chat with Minnie,” the other said, with a long-drawn sigh that Frank understood very well. “By the way, Lanky,” he remarked, “seems to me I saw you talking with Dora just a little while ago. Have you made up again?” “Not that I’ve heard about,” replied Lanky, gloomily. “Of course, I want to treat her civilly, as a fellow always ought a girl he used to think a heap of; but I can’t forget how she gave me the cold shake that night we had the class dance in the barn. If she’d only ask me to forget that, I’d quit feeling like thirty cents, and perk up again.” “But she was talking to you; wasn’t she?” persisted Frank. “Why, yes, she said she was glad I got out of that cellar O. K.; that she was _so_ proud to think that she and I _used_ to be such very good friends; and a lot more of the same kind; but not a peep about bein’ sorry because she cut me that night. And, Frank, I guess I showed her that I wasn’t carin’ a cent. I was as cool as you please; and thanked her just like you might the mayor of Columbia, if he came to tell you the town fathers had voted a medal for your work to-day.” Frank looked at him curiously. He knew the state of Lanky’s feelings, and that the tall chap cared more for fickle little Dora than he was willing to acknowledge. And then and there Frank determined to enlist the services of Minnie Cuthbert in trying to heal the breach between the two estranged ones; though, of course, he would not think of hinting about this to proud Lanky. “I guess you must have, Lanky,” he said, shortly; “because I saw her turn, and walk away with her head held high in the air. You didn’t notice her hand when she held it out to you, I suppose?” “Well,” replied the other, with a flush of what might be regret, “you see that smoke it was fierce, and I’ve been about half blind ever since.” He turned abruptly and walked away. Perhaps it may have been the smoke caused his eyes to water then, for Frank was positive he saw them glisten with some suspicious moisture. “The poor old chap does feel it more than he’ll admit,” he said to himself as he started to rejoin the impatient Minnie. “But if anybody can fix things, Minnie will. Takes a girl like her to handle a delicate subject. She’ll get chummy-like with Dora, and draw her out. Then she’ll tell her how bad Lanky feels, and what she ought to do as the right thing, after cutting him dead that night. Oh! it’ll be all right soon, I reckon.”