ure. What is it, Joe?"

Before her Maggie saw the tall, thin man in overalls, his removed
broad-brimmed hat revealing his white hair, whom she had noticed
a little earlier working among the flowers. He held a bunch of the
choicest pickings from the abundant rose gardens, their stems bound in
maple leaves as temporary protection against their thorns. He was gazing
at Maggie, respectful, hungry admiration in his somber eyes.

"I thought perhaps the young lady might care for these." He held out the
roses to her. And then quickly, to forestall refusal: "I cut out more
than we can use for the house. And I'd like to have you have them."

"Thank you," and Maggie took the flowers.

For an instant their eyes held. In every outward circumstance the event
was a commonplace--this meeting of father and daughter, not knowing each
other. It was hardly more than a commonplace to Maggie: just a tall,
white-haired gardener respectfully offering her roses. And it was hardly
more to Joe Ellison: just a tribute evoked by his hungry interest in
every well-seeming girl of the approximate age of his daughter.

At the moment's end Joe Ellison had bowed and started back for his
flower beds. "Who is that man?" asked Maggie, gazing after him. "I never
saw such eyes."

"We used to be pals in Sing Sing," Larry replied. He went on to give
briefly some of the details of Joe Ellison's story, never dreaming how
he and Maggie were entangled in that story, nor how they were to be
involved in its untanglement. Perhaps they were fortunate in this
ignorance. Within the boundaries of what they did know life already held
enough of problems and complications.

Larry had just finished his condensed history when Dick Sherwood
appeared and ordered them to the veranda for tea. There were just
the five of them, Miss Sherwood, Maggie, Hunt, Dick, and Larry. Miss
Sherwood was as gracious as before, and she seemingly took Maggie's
strained manner and occasional confusions as further proof of her
genuineness. Dick beamed at the impression she was making upon his
sister.

As for Maggie, she was living through the climax of that afternoon's
strain. And she dared not show it. She forced herself to do her best
acting, sipping her tea with a steady hand. And what made her situation
harder was that two of the party, Larry and Hunt, were treating her with
the charmed deference they might accord a charming stranger, when a word
from either of them might destroy the fra