Cherry with him! It was signed Lorenzo Arran. So he was keeping his promise! But why should Cherry be with him? And where had she been hiding all those long four years? So the Faun Man had taken his houseboat to Henley! It would be rather jolly to join him; but, after all, He ought to stick to his work. And this girl--did he want to see her? The maid was waiting. A telegram at Topbury was a rarity in these days. It cost sixpence at the cheapest; therefore its use was restricted to the announcement of the extremes of joy and sorrow--births, deaths and financial losses. She showed relief when he looked up cheerily and said, “Tell the boy no answer.” When she had gone he stood up, walked about the room excitedly and halted by the window. He wouldn't go, of course; it would run his father into expense. Then, again he read the words, “Cherry with me.” It would be amusing to see her. He began to wonder--did she know that the Faun Man had sent for him? If she did----? His thoughts flew back across the years: he was in the Haunted Wood. The little river was singing, “Turn back, turn back, turn back.” He refused to turn back, and followed; suddenly, across the scrub-oak, he found himself gazing into the gray eyes of a girl. It was the grayness of her eyes and the whiteness of her feet that he remembered. He leant over the table and closed the book with its unreal love-legends of gods and goddesses. “By Jove, but I'd like to go,” he said aloud. The maid had spread the news of the unusual happening. As he entered the breakfast-room all eyes examined him. They waited for him to be communicative. At last his father said, “Had a telegram?” Peter drew it from his pocket and passed it. His father looked up. “'Cherry with me.' What does he mean by that?” Peter raised his eyebrows, as much as to say “How can I tell?” His father handed it back. “Are you going?” “Costs money, and I've too much work.” It was the mention of work that roused his mother. She smiled gently, and glanced down the table at her husband. “It would do him good, Billy.” “Yes, it would do you good,” his father said. “Why don't you go, old chap?” “Yes, why don't you go?” Kay echoed. His things were quickly packed. In a flannel suit, with his straw hat in his hand, he was saying good-by on the doorstep. His father bethought him. “Here, wait a second, Peter; I'll walk with you to the end of the Terrace.” While walking he delivered his warning, “This man Arran--personally I like him and I know he's your friend, but----. I've nothing against him, but he's a queer fellow --clever as the dickens and all that. The fact is, curious tales are told about him--all of them too far-fetched to be true. You know the saying about no smoke without fire, well----. It may be that he's only different; but he strikes people as being fast and dangerous. Be careful; I'd trust you anywhere. Have a good time. I've got it off my chest--my sermon's ended.”