"From the House of Refuge," stated Jean, looking him squarely in the face. His own gaze was as direct. "But not that sort," he commented softly, as if thinking aloud--"not that sort." Jean, boy-like, offered her hand. "Thank you," she said simply. "You're quite right. That's exactly why I'm running away. Good-by." "Don't go!" He detained her hand, his face full of sympathy and perplexity. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. It would be hard lines for a fellow, but when I see a girl"--his eyes added: "And such a girl!"--"roaming the country like a--a homeless--" "Hobo?" supplied Jean. He reddened guiltily. "Hang it all!" he ended, "I can't stand it. You hit the nail on the head when you told me that the least I can do is to say nothing. But I trust that isn't all I can do. I want to help." The girl's eyes misted. "You have helped, you believe in me." "Who wouldn't!" His bearing challenged the world. "Several people. My family, for instance; most of the officials back there at the refuge. But never mind that." "No," agreed her new champion. "Never mind that. Let's face the future, the practicalities." Jean complied with despatch. "Your bacon is burning," she announced. He led the way to his camp, and together they surveyed the charred ruin in the spider. Jean could have devoured it as it lay. "And it's my first warm meal," lamented the camper tragically--"my first warm meal after five days of canned stuff! The other fellow was to be cook as well as fisherman." Jean promptly mastered the situation. "Clean that spider while I slice more bacon," she directed, rolling up her sleeves. "If you have potatoes, wash about a dozen." The victim of a canned diet flung himself blithely into the work, but halted suddenly, halfway to the water, and brandished the spider in air. "Not a mouthful unless you'll eat too?" he stipulated. Jean gave a happy laugh. "Perhaps I can be pressed," she conceded. With a facility which would have amazed the refuge, and with a secret pride in her new knowledge which she had little dreamed she could come to feel, Jean set the bacon and potatoes frying, evolved a plate of sandwiches from soda crackers and a tin of sardines, discovered a jar of olives which their owner had forgotten, and arranged the whole upon a box-cover laid with a napkin. Nor was this the sum of the miracle. She even garnished the meat with a handful of watercress which she spied and bade her admiring host gather in a neighboring brook. They said little during the meal, for both were famished; but while they washed the dishes together by the shore Jean, under questioning, sketched the story of her flight. Her listener's ejaculations gained steadily in vigor, till ultimately, moved by a startling thought, he dropped the plate he was polishing. "Look here!" he cried. "Have you had a wink of sleep?" "I got in an hour about the middle of the forenoon." "One hour out of thirty!" "It was enough."