At the start David had been talkative enough, in fact unusually merry; then, from no discernible cause, his lips had shut gravely and Polly had not been able to draw out more than monosyllables and short, matter-of-fact sentences. As she watched the unreadable face she tried to guess what the trouble might be. As in the old days before college, her lover had his occasional jealous moods, and although they were less frequent they grew more and more bitter. Still, during the happy intervals Polly would coax herself to believe that they were past forever. Now she thought over the route, bit by bit, trying to find something which could have disturbed him. At last, baffled in her endeavors, she ventured suddenly:-- “David, why don’t you laugh?” He turned instantly. “At what?” “Anything--nothing,” she answered lightly. “You seemed to be weighing some heavy matter.” “No, I was only--” He halted, then went on without completing his sentence. “I am going away to-morrow,” he announced. Polly’s smile vanished in surprise. “Where?” she asked with her usual eagerness. “Spitzbergen or the South Pole?” David did not appear to notice her pleasantry. “To the Adirondacks,” he said simply. “Oh!” Polly exclaimed. “Were you just making up your mind?” David reddened. “N-no,” he denied; “but Converse invited me only a day or two ago, and I didn’t decide at once.” “Going with Child Converse?” queried Polly’s lips, while her thoughts ran along, “Why didn’t he tell me sooner? We were together all yesterday morning and this afternoon--never a word until now!” “Yes,” David was saying, “he is going to take me up to their camp. His father and mother are in Seattle, you know.” “M-h’m,” she bowed. “How long you going to stay?” “I don’t know. He hasn’t set any time.” “It’ll be great, won’t it?” Polly smiled in her friendliest way. He nodded gravely, slipping abruptly into complaint. “You do not like Converse. You have never taken the trouble to know him.” The girl’s eyes twinkled. “I certainly ought to adore him,” she said; “it is the first time you ever wanted me to look at any boy except Your Royal Highness.” “Oh, you don’t understand!” sighed David. “I am always wondering,” Polly went on, a tiny scowl wrinkling her smooth forehead, “how it is that Converse happens to attract you.” “He is a good fellow,” said David positively. “But he has no stock of prittle-prattle.” “It isn’t his lack of nonsense,” Polly smiled. “He is too pretty. That combined with his name--but he can’t help either, poor boy! Anyway, he looks like a nice baby--” “Baby!” sniffed David. “Well, he does. With his round face and rosy cheeks and curly hair--honestly, I always want to take him on my knee and trot him.” David laughed, though as if against his will. “There’s nothing of the baby about him,” he asserted, “and a fellow can’t help his looks.”