“Miss Dreen,” Anthony said, stepping forward into the opening door. “Miss Dreen cannot see you,” the servant returned without hesitation. Anthony drew back, momentarily repelled; but, before he could question this announcement, he heard grinding wheels on the gravel drive. Turning, he saw a motor stop, and Mrs. Dreen descend, followed by a man with a somber, deeply-scored countenance. Anthony moved forward eagerly as she mounted the steps. “Mrs. Dreen,” he asked; “can you tell me-” She passed with a confused, blank face, without stopping or acknowledging his salutation, and the door closed softly upon her and her companion. A momentary flame of anger within Anthony quickly sank to cold consternation. Eliza had told her parents and they had dismissed the idea and him. It was evident they had forbidden her to see him. He walked indecisively down the steps, still carrying his hat, and stopped mechanically on the driveway. He gazed blindly over a brilliant, scarlet bed of geraniums, over the extended lawn, the rolling hills of Ellerton. Then his courage returned, stiffened by the obstacles which apparently confronted him: he would show them that he was not to be lightly dismissed; no power on earth should separate him from Eliza. The servant had only obeyed Mrs. Dreen's direction; Eliza, he was certain, had no choice in the matter of his reception. Then, unexpectedly, he remembered his father's words, the latter's contemptuous reference to all appeals to women. He must go to Mr. Dreen, and straightforwardly state his position, tell him... _what?_ Why, that he, Anthony Ball, loved Eliza, desired her, had come to take her away... _where?_ In all the world he had no place prepared for her. He drove his hand into his pocket, and discovered a quarter of a dollar and some odd pennies--all that he possessed. Suddenly he laughed, a short, sorry merriment that stopped in a dry gasp. He turned and ran, stumbling over the grass, through the hot dust, toward Ellerton. Two years, he thought, California; California and two years. XXII ANTHONY sat late into the night composing an explanatory and farewell letter to Eliza: