"I don't like people to read what I mark." "Why not?" "It's like leaving your diary open. Why should people--" "I'm not 'people.' Mayn't I know this tiny bit?--'Meditare utrum commodius sit, vel mortem transire ad nos vel nos ad eam.' What's that?" Ethan only smiled. "You never gave me back my watch." "I forgot. No; I can't think why I tell such lies. I didn't forget at all. Oh, here comes Mrs. Ball," she said, with an accent of despair, "and we've not said a word about--" "Bother Mrs. Ball!" Ethan ejaculated under his breath; and his cousin blessed him. Val's hostess hurried down the bank, and Ethan handed her into the boat. Harry was left to cope with the basket. "Now, what are you two arranging for to-morrow?" said the lady, settling herself in the boat. "We weren't arranging," replied Val; "we were speaking about a book." She had put the volume back in the pocket of Ethan's jacket. "There's a dance at the O'Connors' to-morrow night," said Mrs. Ball; "perhaps you'd like to come with us." She saw herself entering on Mr. Gano's arm. "Ah, thanks; you're very kind, but I don't go to dances these days." Mrs. Ball tried to think she was relieved on Val's account, but she couldn't help saying, with an air: "The O'Connors are among the first people here; they entertain in the most princely way." "_I_ was suggesting a day's fishing down by the Gray Pool," said Harry, appearing with the basket; "it's that place on the Little Choctaw River." "Nothing could be better," Ethan agreed. And then he stopped, having caught Val's unenthusiastic glance. Another day to be lived through, cooped up in a boat, she was thinking; or pursued, at all events, by two superfluous people. "Yes," said Mrs. Ball, "the scenery on the Little Choctaw is very wild and splendid. A cousin of mine--you know, Harry, cousin Bettie MacFadden--she says it's just like some place abroad--in Scotland, I think." "Oh, really," said Ethan, in his charming way, "I must see that, but we might go fishing on a dull day. If it's as fine as this to-morrow, why not-- Don't I remember"--he turned to Mrs. Ball--"that you're a very good horsewoman?" "Oh--er--well--" "They were telling me at the hotel you have a ride hereabouts out to some wild park." "Yes; he means Forest Park Lodge," said Wilbur. "Let us go there," said Ethan, "and I'll wire them to have luncheon ready." It was all arranged before they parted, Mrs. Ball salving any prick of conscience by assuring herself it was far better not to seem afraid of this masterful Mr. Gano, with his reputation for being dangerous. It was right, and even politic, not to "leave him out." All that was necessary was that she, Mrs. Ball, should "be there." "I don't ask you to come back with us to-night," she said, on their return to town. "We have time only to snatch a mouthful before going to a concert."