“Really, Mr. Barton, you must not assume too much,” she hesitated, unable to approach clearly before Morry Copley the matter that so troubled her and that had brought her to Quehasset. “I say,” drawled the latter, “you don’t mean to say Miss Clayton is one of these really industrious people--like yourself, Barton? Is she, too, a prop and support of the Hapwood-Diller Company?” “She most certainly is!” smiled the general manager. “But I believe she brings me nothing but good news. How about it, Miss Clayton?” It was her chance--perhaps the best one she would have to get him away from this chattering, inconsequential Morry Copley. “I have one puzzle to consult you about, Mr. Barton,” she began, when, with a whir and clash of released gears, a big touring car whirled around the corner and halted almost directly before the shack. “Oh, Jimminy Christmas, see who’s here!” ejaculated Copley. “Miss Fuller! Welcome to our city!” joined in Barton, and hastily descended to the car. Morry Copley remained lounging beside Ethel, greeting the girl in the car with merely the semaphore sign of good comradeship. Helen was alone, having dropped her mother and father at the Staff Headquarters. As had been said, Grandon Fuller had once borne the title of “Colonel” and played the fact now for all it was worth. “Don’t let me keep you, Mr. Copley,” Ethel said significantly. “No chance!” drawled Morry. “Miss Fuller has no use for me when Barton’s around. They talk nothing but war and nursing. Gee! I hate to think of folks getting all mussed up so.” “Why, for pity’s sake, did you ever join this camp?” Ethel asked, in astonishment. “I rawther fancied myself in the uniform, don’t you know,” he declared, but with twinkling eyes. “I say!” he added, “they’re not going for a spin without us?” Ethel leaped to her feet and anger flashed from her eyes, although Morry did not see it. Miss Fuller was evidently trying to urge Barton to get into the car. She had punched her starter button and the car began to throb. But Barton turned back to the two on the plank porch of the shack. “Do come, Miss Clayton,” he urged. “I promised I would take luncheon with Miss Fuller to-day at the Mannerly Arms, and she has not much time. It will be quite all right, I am sure. If you have something to say to me----” “My errand is strictly business, Mr. Barton,” Ethel replied shortly. “I am sure Miss Fuller will wait----” “Oh, bring her along, _do_!” exclaimed Helen from the car and with impatience. “Come on, Morry. I know _you_ are dying to take her. You’ll excuse me for not getting out and begging you myself, Miss Clayton,” she added carelessly. “I suppose it is sometimes necessary to mix business with pleasure. If you really _have_ to consult Mr. Barton----”