“Don’t get me any wrap,” she forbade, stretching out her hands to the blaze he was again stirring into life, “I’m warm enough. And you’d fall over something and swear and that would wake somebody. Then I’d have to go back to the stuffy tent.” Rex, curled up asleep on the far side of the fire, lifted his head; wakened by the sibillant whispering. Seeing Desirée, he began to smite the earth resoundingly with his wagging tail. “Hush!” whispered the girl, raising her finger in warning; as the collie’s sleepy, golden eyes blinked more and more friendly greetings and the bushy tail increased the tempo of its beats. Mistaking her gesture, Rex rose with lazy grace, stretched himself, alternately, fore and aft, collie-fashion; and picked his way daintily across the cleared space to Desirée’s side. He lay down at her feet, thrusting his cold nose affectionately into the hollow of her hand. “What a gorgeous night!” murmured Desirée looking up at the black, star-strewn sky, “And we were going to waste it in sleep! The woods are calling. The dryads and fauns want us to come to their enchanted dell and dance with them. Shall we?” Understanding not a tithe of her words the man nevertheless caught the flickering light of adventure in her eyes. “I’m always game for anything you put a name to” he made answer, “I’m kind of heavy for dancin’. But if it’ll be any sort of pleasure for you, I might have a try at it.” “Hush!” she warned, “If you speak as loudly as that you’ll be sure to wake them. Isn’t this _fun_?” she went on with a happy little laugh, “I feel as if we’d run away from school and were going to be scolded terribly hard when we get back. I dare you,--oh, I _dare_ you! I _double_-dare you!” “To what?” he demanded, infected by the sudden rush of mischief to her face and voice, “I’ll do anything you say. Want me to haul out Steve Martin an’ Jack an’ lick ’em for you, or set fire to the old lady’s tent?” “Neither,” she decreed sternly; adding with perverse wistfulness, “Though it would be interesting to see how Mrs. Hawarden’s airy dignity would sustain her in a blazing tent. No, no. What I was going to dare you to do is much less spectacular. Nothing more exciting than a walk.” “A walk?” echoed Conover, “Why, it’s near ten o’clock, an’ cold as charity. Besides, it’ll be all dark an’ damp in the thick part of the woods.” “But I’m _sure_ we’ll run across a ring of fairies,--or a satyr, at the very least. Oh, the night is throbbing with magic! And the forests are calling. Shan’t we answer the call?” “Sounds to me more like katydids,” he demurred, “But, if you like, we can take a stroll. We’ll be back in half an hour or so, an’ that ought to be early enough, even for old Mrs. Propriety in there,” with a nod toward Mrs. Hawarden’s tent, “But you’ll want some wrap, won’t you?” “No. I’m warm as toast. This sweater’s so wudgy and soft; and it’s as thick as thick can be. Come along!”