Minga was glib at these numbers. "I've--we've heard so much about you, awfully glad to meet you; you know my cousin, Mrs. Ledyard, she's told me just lots about you." Watts swept a swift glance at the girl.... "Yes," he took Minga in and smiled, not unsympathetically, "I know Mrs. Ledyard well; I am glad to meet a cousin of hers. It's Miss Gerould, isn't it? I am so glad to see you." "Well," Minga, even before his indulgence, felt an unaccountable awkwardness; the erstwhile Pocahontas shifted from one foot to another while she dug both hands in the patch pockets of her tennis skirt. "I--we--er--just came up," she began; "we all sort of--thought we'd like to know you." Now the owl-eyed youth stepped forward with the grand manner of the college debater. "We come on behalf of Terence O'Brien," he began. At the superior manner and the name, the great lawyer stiffened ever so imperceptibly, but suddenly the owl-eyed also lost courage, so that it was Sard who was forced to lucidify things. "We hope we aren't intruding." The girl's voice was even and poised. Watts looked at her with interest. "We are in great distress and trouble about something and we believed that you could--that you would help us." "This is Judge Bogart's daughter," announced one of the boys with the society drawl of the "important" introduction. The lawyer, standing there, bowed. The moonlight disguised the look of curiosity, of humor, in his eyes; he scanned this awed group in rather fantastic outdoor get-up. "It's a little late for calling, isn't it?" he suggested; then, seeing a slight resentment on the part of the owl-eyed, whom he instantly recognized as a struggler along his own difficult path of the law, he relented. "But delightful of you to climb way up here. Rather wicked roads, I'm afraid; some able driving." With a hospitable gesture he led the way to the clearing in front of his house. Few of the young people had been up here before; there were looks of frank curiosity and expressions of wonder that a modern clubman should choose to live in the organ builder's old rookery. "Well, it has its charm," explained Watts, his grim mouth was humorous, "but I shan't ask you in; not while the moon's like this! Now, if you fellows will drag out rugs and some cushions for the girls----" He was busy receiving his midnight guests, as if all were quite usual. And quite usual it seemed to the young night hawks. The boys, sitting on stumps, rolled cigarettes or filled pipes; Minga and Gertrude also lit cigarettes, but the former, at Sard's amused glance, tossed hers away; the thing, still smouldering, dropped on some dried pine needles. Shipman slowly turned from the owl-eyed and his look went directly to the little wisp of smoke. "Your cigarette is still burning," he gestured toward it, then courteously, "I am fire warden here; won't you please put it out?"