"Oh, Wally, it's just like any school, and I'm shut up here all the time. I'm just dying for a day in the country," she urged. "_P-l-e-a-s-e_ Wally." "All right, come on. You aren't taking me off for fear they'll give you away, are you?" "Give me away?"--anxiously. "Mrs. Benjamin says you're a prize pupil, but they can't get away with that, Isabelle; I know you." "No, you don't," she laughed. "I'm all new." She slipped her arm through his and urged him forth. "Come on, Wally, be a dear." So she managed to get him in the car and away from the house before the school trooped in. She had no plan beyond that, but she knew that she must never let Wally go back to that school. She looked at his little wizened face, muffled up in his coat collar, and his little pinched hands on the wheel. No; only over her dead body should the girls see Wally! She set herself to his entertainment, and got him into a good humour in no time. He roared at her stories, her comments on the girls. He noted her fine colour. "You're getting handsome, Isabelle." "Beauty is but skin deep. I rely on my line of talk," she replied, and joined in his laughter. "Look here, why did you railroad me out of that school so fast?" "I thought it would be nicer to have you all to myself," she replied, innocently. "Isabelle, Isabelle, what are you up to?" her father demanded. "Nothing, Wally--honest. I'm a reformed character." She induced him to take her to lunch at The Gay Dog Inn, and they were very merry over the meal. "I quite like you, Isabelle," said Wally. "You used to embarrass me to death." "I've always rather liked you, Wally," she retorted, to their mutual amusement. "See here, I must be getting on, if I'm to make Boston for dinner," he said, consulting his watch. "You needn't take me clear up to the school. You may drop me at what we call the cross roads." "Oh, I'll get you back," he protested. From the moment they were headed for the school she talked feverishly, and thought wildly. How could she keep him from going to Hill Top? They had some trouble with the engine and while Wally tinkered with it, she sat with her eyes screwed shut, praying that something would happen to save her face. "No extra tires and a balky engine. I'll bounce that mechanic when I get back," he grumbled, as they started off again. The short spring day was beginning to fade, when Isabelle laid her hand on his arm. "This is the cross roads. I get out here," she said. "I'll run you up," he answered, casually. "But I'd rather walk, Wally. I need the exercise." As she was beginning to get out, he had to stop. "What's the plot?" "No plot. You'll be terribly late now. It was _sweet_ of you to come, Wally, and I'm obliged for the party," she said, kissing him, and dismounting. "Isabelle, have you murdered anybody?" he asked, gravely. "Not yet," she replied, equally gravely. Then with a wave and a shouted good-bye she ran up the hill, and disappeared into the underbrush.