knew nothing, be playing a double game,
and the frankness of his face belie his real nature? And was it not
possible that his annoyance and irritation were caused by having been
trapped in it?

Well, avowed Willie, he would see that Delight encountered this Don
Giovanni but seldom, at least until he gave a more trustworthy account
of himself than he had vouchsafed up to the present moment. Contrary
to the common law, the guest must be rated as guilty until he had
proved himself innocent. Yet as he darted a glance at the earnest
young face bending over the workbench Willie's conscience smote him and
he questioned whether he might not be doing his comrade a dire
injustice. The thought caused him to flush uncomfortably, and he
flushed still redder when Bob suddenly straightened up and met his eye.

Both men stood alert, held tensely by the same sound. It was the low
music of a girlish voice humming a snatch of song, and it was
accompanied by the soft crackling of the needles that carpeted the
grove of pine between the Spence and Brewster houses. In another
instant Delight Hathaway strolled slowly out of the wood and entered
the workshop. With her coming a radiance of sunshine seemed to flood
the shabby room. She nodded a greeting to Bob, then went straight to
Willie and, placing her hands affectionately on his shoulders, looked
down into his face. They made a pretty picture, the bent old man with
his russet cheeks and thin white hair, and the girl erect as an arrow
and beautiful as a young Diana.

The little inventor lifted his mild blue eyes to meet the haunting eyes
of hazel.

"Well, well, my dear," he said, as he covered one of her hands with his
own worn brown one, "so you have come for your buckle, have you? It is
all done, honey, an' good as the day when 'twas made. Bob has it in
his pocket for you this minute."

By a strange magic the truth and sunlight of the girl's presence had
for the time being dispelled all baser suspicions and Willie smiled
kindly at the man beside him.

Holding out the crisp white package, Robert Morton came forward.

Delight looked questioningly from the box with its immaculate paper and
neat pink string to its giver.

"He found he couldn't fix it himself," explained Willie, immediately
interpreting the interrogation. "Neither him or I were guns enough for
the job. So Bob got somebody he knew of to tinker it up."

"That was certainly very kind," returned Delight with