The fellow stumbled off down the sandy road. Madelaine waited. To run after him would have been asinine. He was gone a disquieting time. The girl drew her sweater-coat about her shoulders as the last daylight faded and the stars grew brighter. It was ghastly quiet. Somewhere off across the valley a dog barked. She heard the faint tinkle of a cow bell. From down among the frowsy woodland ferns at her right came a faint trickling of water. A mosquito sang close to her ear. The dew was heavy. It gathered in huge drops on the leather seat and the thick, brass-framed windshield. Madelaine heard her cousin’s returning footsteps in the sand before she discerned his figure. Then he stopped to light a cigarette. “It was a devil of a ways, Madge, and I’m sorry I had to leave you. But I got ’em! A tool car will come out in an hour.” “An hour! You found a telephone?” “A devil of a ways down the valley—yes. I had to cut through a pasture and swamp. There’s nothing to do now but wait.” “Gordon! I——” “Oh, don’t get sore. I called The Elms, too. Miss Anderson said it was all O. K. I told her we’d met with an accident—a real accident—and if she didn’t believe it, she could call the Mohawk Garage and find out if I hadn’t sent there for aid.” “You called Miss Anderson? She said it would be all right? On your honor?” “On my honor!” He lurched up into the machine and Madelaine had to make room for him in the single seat. “Mind cigarette smoke?” he asked. “It’ll keep off the mosquitoes.” The girl was greatly troubled. She wished she could believe that when Gordon swore “on his honor,” it was his honor. “Great out here in the country, this time o’ night, ain’t it?” observed the fellow, idly turning the impotent gas and spark levers beneath the wheel. “How far was it, Gordon, to the house where you telephoned?” “Oh, I dunno. Couple of miles, I guess. Forget it, Madge! Too dark now for you to make it through all that bog, anyhow.” Gordon twisted his body around and rested one arm along the seat-back behind her. “Did you tell the garage men very explicitly where we were stalled?” “Sure I did! What’s biting you, Madge, anyhow?” “How did you describe it? Just where are we?” “On the Shutesbury road, about eight miles above Amherst.” “How far is it back to the main road?” “Say, Madge! Are you afraid to wait here with me just because there’s no houses in sight?” “Afraid? Oh, no, Gordon. I’m not afraid of you in the least.” “Then I wish you’d cut out the catechism.” The girl bit her lip and slapped at a murderous mosquito on her wrist. She drew the sweater-coat tighter about her and started that wait. She was glad she had her purse in her sweater-coat pocket. Gordon smoked his cigarette to the final puff and sighed philosophically as he lighted another. He restored his arm along the back of the seat. It grew darker. “Madge,” said he, “did you know—honestly!—you’re one of the swellest girls I ever ran across!”