"Whatever it is," she answered, "you must seem to be delighted." "I think I shall be." David was actually smiling. "For the last hour I've been looking at my watch every five minutes. This excitement is infectious. He hasn't grown up, has he?" "But isn't that his great charm?" Miss Summers seemed already delighted over something. "Charm?" David looked doubtful. "I hadn't thought of him as--" But he did not finish. Quick staccato footsteps were heard. Then a strange vision burst upon them--Jonathan Radbourne accoutered for motoring, in visored cap and duster, with a huge pair of shell-rimmed goggles that sat grotesquely athwart his beaming countenance. On one arm he carried a veil and another coat. "Ready?" And to their astonished gaze he explained, "First we're going for a little run--if it is agreeable to you?" They assured him, in italics, that it was. "Then let us hurry." He handed the coat and veil to Miss Summers. "I brought these along for you. They are my mother's. I got them for her but she never would go out in a machine. She thinks it would be tempting Providence. I'm sorry," this to David, "I had nothing to fit you. Can you do without?" David put him at ease on that point, and Miss Summers retired. In a few minutes, fewer than you might suppose, she returned. Radbourne clapped his hands in delight. "Look, David!" David obeyed. And then he was sure that he had never done justice to the face peering up at him from under the veiled hat. He was bound to admit that it had, after all, certain elements of prettiness; he was astonished that he could have thought otherwise. But then he had never seen her when cheeks glowed shell-pink and eyes danced with that undefined but delicious sense of adventure. As he looked he smiled. It was a very friendly smile and the shell-pink deepened. A touch on his arm interrupted--it seems there was something to interrupt. "Have I taken a liberty? I called you David." David turned the remnant of the friendly smile upon Jonathan Radbourne. "Of course not. I hope you will do that again." Jonathan beamed. "Thank you. And now, shall we start?" An hour later they were bowling swiftly along, up hill and down dale, over a smooth country road. Fields of young corn sped by, stretches of yellowing grain that rippled and tossed under the sweep of the breeze, fragrant wood-lots whose shadow was a caress. The host of the occasion sat with the chauffeur, turning often to point out to his guests some beauty of landscape they already had seen, commenting tritely, obvious as always in his effort to be entertaining, happy in the belief that he was succeeding. And he was succeeding; such is the uplifting power of the spirit of true friendliness, even when dwelling in a dinky little man with whiskers absurdly swept by the rushing wind.