"I don't know if you know it," she said, "but I have made a profound study of palmistry. Will you lend me your hand a moment?" "Very willingly. And I don't care if some one were to see us." She studied his palm with great sternness. "I read here," she said, "with regret, that you are an outrageous flirt. It seems also that you are something of a fraud." "One more calumny," exclaimed Mr. Langham, "and I withdraw my hand with a gesture of supreme indignation." But she held him very tightly by the fingers. "And this little line," she cried, "tells me that you have known Colonel Meredith intimately for years and that you never studied handwriting in all your born days." Mr. Langham began to chuckle all over. "The next time," he said, "that people tell me you are easily imposed on, I shall deny it." "You _do_ know him?" He blinked and nodded like a wise owl. "Shall I write or telegraph?" "You will use your own judgment." So she did both. She wrote out a telegram and sent it to Carrytown in the _Streak_. And she tried to picture in her mind a young man who should look like an angel if his eyes weren't too bold and roving. Her sisters and her brother all proclaimed that Maud was a really sensible person. But none of them knew how really sensible she was. She was, for instance, more interested in Colonel Meredith than in his cousin Mr. Jonstone, and for the simple reason that she knew the one to be rich and handsome and knew nothing whatever about the other. XXI Mr. Langham was at the float to welcome the two Carolinians. "You have," he complimented Colonel Meredith, "once more proved the ability to land on your feet in a soft spot. You will be more comfortable here, better fed, better laundered than anywhere else in the world." As they strolled from the float to the office, Mr. Jonstone looked about him a little uneasily. Not one of the beautiful girls who had looked into his eyes from the page of _The Four Seasons_ was in sight, or, indeed, any girl, woman, or female of any sort whatever. He had led himself to expect a resort crowded with rustling and starchy boarders. He found himself, instead, in a primeval pine forest in which were sheltered many low, austere buildings of logs, above whose great chimneys stood vertical columns of pale smoke. It was not yet dusk, but the air among the long shadows had an icy quality and was heavily charged with the odor of balsam. It was difficult to believe the season summer, and Mr. Jonstone was reminded of December evenings in the Carolinas. "This is the office," said Mr. Langham, and he ushered them into the presence of a bright birch fire and Maud Darling. Each of the Carolinians drew a quick breath and bowed as if before royalty. Mr. Langham presented them to Miss Darling. She begged them to write their names in the guest book and to warm themselves at the fire. "And then," said Sam Langham, "I'll shake them up a cocktail and show them their house."