all off at work and no one was in
sight.

It was a very respectable-looking barn now that Fred had patched its
weather-beaten sides and painted it. She flung back the door to
revisualize her recollection of the dance. The bang of the sliding door
roused a hen to noisy protest, and it sought the open with a wild
beating of wings. The hen had emerged from the manger of an unused
stall, and in feeling under the corn-trough for eggs, Phil touched some
alien object. She gave a tug that brought to light a corner of brown
leather, found handles, and drew out a suit-case. She was about to
thrust it back when "C. H." in small black letters arrested her eye. It
was an odd place for the storing of luggage and her curiosity was keenly
aroused. She had seen and heard nothing of Charles Holton since the
night he had taken her to the lecture, and barns were not likely
camping-places for gentlemen of his fastidious tastes.

A step on the planked approach to the barn caused her to thrust the case
back under the corn-box. She sprang toward the door, and faced Jack
Whittlesey, who grinned and took off his hat.

"'Lo, Phil!"

"'Lo, Jack!"

"Stealing eggs, Phil?"

"The hen deceived me; nothing doing."

"Passed you on the way out. Hardly know your old friends now you've set
up a machine, I reckon."

"Cut that out, Jack, and feed it to the larks. You had only ten votes to
spare when you were elected and I landed seven of them for you, so don't
be gay with me."

"I'm not gay; I'm tired. I'm looking for a party."

"What's your friend's name?" asked Phil, picking up a straw and chewing
it.

"That would be telling. You haven't seen a man chasing over the country
with a brown suit-case, have you?"

"Nope; nor with a black, pink, or green one. Where does the story
begin?"

"Well, not in my county. They send all the hard jobs out to us farmers.
Suppose there's anybody in this barn?"

"There was a hen; but she went off mad when I came in. You'd better go
back and pose on Listening Hill again; you looked rather well there--a
lone picket on an Alp watching for Napoleon's advance.

"He saw afar
The coming host, but thought the glint of arms,
Betokened milk-cans in some peasant's cart,"--

Phil added, bending forward and shading her eyes with her hand.

Whittlesey, knowing Phil well, laughed his appreciation absently.

"He's been dodgin' up and down the creek here for two days, trying to
muster