"Mercy, no! But--it can't be that it is necessary! He--he certainly could--" "Did you read that schedule?" Julius's voice had in it a commanding, no-compromise quality. He knew that this feminine evasiveness was probably inevitable; they were made that way, these girls; but he did not intend to let the time limit of an expensive long-distance call be exceeded by mere nonsense. "Ye-es, but--" "Now listen. We've got three minutes to talk; we've used thirty seconds already saying nothing. I'm going to be on that train. I'm going to have that little trip with Kirke, and if you don't have it, it will be pure foolishness; and you'll cry your eyes out afterward to think you didn't. He can't get to you; if he could he'd do it; you must know him well enough for that if you've been hearing from him all these months. Now--will you be there?" "Julius! I'm afraid I--" "Will you be there?" "Why--don't you think I--perhaps I ought to have Bud--" "No, I don't. I'm all the chaperon you'll need for this affair. If you go and get another woman mixed up with it you'll lose half of your fun, for she'll be sure to forget she's the chaperon--you know Bud--and first you know you'll be chaperoning her. See? Will you be at the station? I'm going to hang up now in just fifteen seconds!" "Oh, Jule--wait!--I--" "All right! I'll telephone down for the seats. Good-bye!" He was on the vestibuled platform of his car to meet her when his train passed the home city from whose suburbs she had come in. His eager eye fell delightedly on the trimly modish figure his sister presented; he would be proud to take her back into his car. He knew just how two or three sleepy fellows of his own age, in chairs near his own, would sit up when they saw him return with this radiant girl. Dot certainly knew how to get herself up, he reflected, as he had often done before. It was April and it was "raining cats and dogs" as Dorothy came aboard, but the blue rainproof serge of her beautifully fitting suit was little the worse therefor, and the close little black hat with the fetching feather was one to defy the elements, be they never so wildly springlike. "You're a good sport!" was Julius's low-pitched greeting as he kissed her, the tail of his eye on one of his young fellow-passengers who had followed him to the platform for a breath of fresh air and stood with his hands in his pockets staring at the pretty girl close by. "I feel like a buccaneer--or a pirate--or something very bold and wild and adventurous," she returned.