"Bobby? Bobby McGinnis?" The blue eyes half closed and seemed to be looking far into the past. Suddenly they opened wide and flashed a glad recognition into his face. "And are you Bobby McGinnis?" "Yes." "Why, of course I remember Bobby McGinnis," she cried, with outstretched hand. "It was you that found me when I was a wee bit of a girl and lost in New York, though _that_ I don't remember. But we used to play together there in Houghtonsville, and it was you that got me the contract----" She stopped abruptly and turned her face away. The man saw her lips and chin tremble. "I can't speak of it--even now," she said brokenly, after a moment. Then, gently: "Tell me of yourself. How came you here?" "I came here at once from Houghtonsville." McGinnis's voice, too, was not quite steady. She nodded, and he went on without explaining the "at once"--he had thought she would understand. "I went to work in the mills, and--I have been here ever since. That is all," he said simply. "But how happened it that you came--here?" A dull red flushed the man's cheeks. His eyes swerved from her level gaze, then came back suddenly with the old boyish twinkle in their depths. "I came," he began slowly, "well, to look after your affairs." "_My_ affairs!" "Yes. I was fifteen. I deemed somehow that I was the one remaining friend who had your best interests at heart. I _couldn't_ look after you, naturally--in a girls' school--so I did the next best thing. I looked after your inheritance." "Dear old Bobby!" murmured the girl. And the man who heard knew, in spite of a conscious throb of joy, that it was the fifteen-year-old lad that Margaret Kendall saw before her, not the man-grown standing at her side. "I suppose I thought," he resumed after a moment, "that if I were not here some one might pick up the mills and run off with them." "And now?" She was back in the present, and her eyes were merry. "And now? Well, now I come nearer realizing my limitations, perhaps," he laughed. "At any rate, I learned long ago that your interests were in excellent hands, and that my presence could do very little good, even if they had not been in such fine shape.... But I am keeping you," he broke off suddenly, backing away from the car. "Are you--can you--you do not need me any longer to run the machine? You'll not go back through the town, of course." "No, I shall not go back through the town," shuddered the girl. "And I can drive very well by myself now, I am sure," she declared. And he did not know that for a moment she had been tempted to give quite the opposite answer. "I shall go on to the next turn, and then around home by the other way.... But I shall see you soon again?--you will come to see me?" she finished, as she held out her hand. McGinnis shook his head. "Miss Kendall, in the kindness of her heart, forgets," he reminded her quietly. "Bobby McGinnis is not on Hilcrest's calling list."