r beck and call. It suited her to have Storm's back, and all our
backs, turned for a bit; now the ground is safe again under the lady's
feet. She'll want our congratulations, and Storm's stylo, to send out
the glad tidings. Ten to one by this time she's got hold of him, and
he's heard the worst----"

"Meaning, not about her and Larry, but Pat and Caspian," I finished
Jack's sentence.

"Storm will be at Kidd's Pines for lunch," went on my fellow-conspirator
(I took it for granted he would be that!), "eating Dead Sea Apples."

"I don't believe it!" I contradicted. "Pat would hardly be equal to
meeting him, with that nosebud and those eyes. He'll have escaped into
the wilderness--his own backyard, probably. It's the safest and most
retired place there is to have a Berserker rage in. I'll word my note so
that he'll understand we're on the salvage dodge. Then he'll come like
an arrow shot from the bow."

"Car permitting!" said Jack; but he was really sympathetic of course, or
he wouldn't have been Jack.

Peter did come, and it was more complicated than I had thought, leading
up to the subject, because as I've told you, P. S. is as reserved as a
Leyden drop--if that's the name for it: don't you know, it falls into a
jar full of something or other and instantly hardens on the outside,
which sets up a great strain, and you have to be careful in touching it
for fear it flies to bits? However, I began with Larry and Mrs. Shuster.
He hadn't heard about them, for he had been advised in a note from his
employeress that he needn't come over till she sent for him (I suppose
_that_ was to please Caspian and keep the hated rival out of the way
till the creature could rush back). Peter didn't laugh at all, except
just at first when I got off my _mot_ about the marshmallow kiss. He
seemed to think, not about the funny part of such an entanglement for
Larry, but about the horrid part of it for Pat. And then, when I had got
him quite melted and human, I blurted out: "The worst of it is, poor
little Patsey has sacrificed herself to save her father, because _she_
thought he'd sacrificed himself to save her, or something of that sort."

"What do you mean?" asked Peter, not able to wait till I had finished
swallowing heavily.

"She's promised to marry a man she doesn't even _like_," I said. "Mr.
Caspian."

You ought to have seen his face! His lips tightened, and his eyes simply
blazed. I almost thought in another second my Leyden drop