“Oh, thank you for coming to my rescue, Kirk,” she replied, gratefully. “It’s so much worse for a girl to be left in the lurch than for a man. But I’m afraid old ladies like me can’t expect to hold young men like Clayton Jones.” “But you’re no older than Marjorie!” protested Kirk. “No, that’s true,” she admitted. She stepped happily into the canoe, well pleased at the success of the plan, and at the good-humored attitude of her companion. She resolved to keep up his good spirits as long as possible. He seemed in a talkative mood. “Tell me what you think of this Marjorie Wilkinson,” he began. Irene did not care to talk about other girls, but she felt she would have to satisfy him as best she could. “Why, she seems lovely to me,” she replied. “She is a very athletic girl--lieutenant of the scout troop, and all that--and she doesn’t appear to care much about men. Last night she told me she would rather go with any of the Academy boys than anybody else, because they knew so much about nature!” Irene studied Kirk’s face, as she added her final remark: “I really think it was she who arranged to run away with Clayton. She seems to like him a lot!” “She’s not showing bad taste at that,” remarked her companion. “I wouldn’t be adverse to a little trip with the kid myself.” “Clayton, you mean?” “Yes.” “Not Marjorie? Are you--are you so awfully sorry you missed her company?” “Certainly not!” returned the young man, coolly. “She’s nothing to me!” Irene felt relieved, but she was sorry not to evoke some warmer expression of sentiment from her companion. She was sitting in the bow of the boat, so she could not see him without turning around, and she could not do that too often. So she hardly knew how to interpret his last remark, or to know how much he was in earnest. She tried other subjects, but Kirk made his answers so monosyllabic that she finally abandoned all attempt at conversation, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of the scenery, and of paddling. Kirk was an experienced canoeist, and in spite of the fact that they were going against the current, he made good headway. When they reached the picnic spot, they found Marjorie and Clayton already there. They were seated on the edge of the bank with their lines in the water. Two good sized fish lay on the ground beside them. “Marj can fish!” cried Clayton, triumphantly. He seemed proud to exhibit her as his especial property. “My brother taught me something about it, but I want to learn lots more,” she explained. Kirk threw himself upon the ground beside her, and watched her with amusement. He, who was so indifferent to girls himself, was not used to finding them indifferent to him. “If you hadn’t run away from me,” he remarked, “I’d have been glad to ask you to go fishing with me.” Marjorie shot him a withering glance. He certainly seemed pleased with himself!