said, "until I bring it
to you and place it in your hand."

She turned her face slowly to his and lifted her blue eyes.

"I wonder," she said. "I wonder."

The firelight fell on her lips, her hair, her eyes, and Mr. Magee knew
that his selfish bachelorhood was at an end. Hitherto, marriage had been
to him the picture drawn by the pathetic exiled master. "There are no
more pleasant by-paths down which you may wander, but the road lies long
and straight and dusty to the grave." What if it were so? With the hand
of a girl like this in his, what if the pleasant by-paths of his
solitude did bear hereafter the "No Thoroughfare" sign? Long the road
might be, and he would rejoice in its length; dusty perhaps, but her
smile through the dust would make it all worth while. He stooped to her.

"Give me, please," he said, "the benefit of the doubt." It was a poor
speech compared to what was in his heart, but Billy Magee was rapidly
learning that most of the pretty speeches went with puppets who could
not feel.

Bland and Max came in from a brisk walk on the veranda. The mayor of
Reuton, who had been dozing near the desk, stirred.

"Great air up here," remarked Mr. Max, rubbing his hands before the
fire. "Ought to be pumped down into the region of the white lights. It
sure would stir things up."

"It would put out the lights at ten p. m.," answered Mr. Magee, "and
inculcate other wholesome habits of living disastrous to the restaurant
impresarios."

Miss Norton rose and ascended the stairs. Still the protesting Magee was
at her heels. At the head of the stair she turned.

"You shall have your final chance," she said. "The mayor, Max and Bland
are alone in the office. I don't approve of eavesdropping at Baldpate in
the summer--it has spoiled a lot of perfectly adorable engagements. But
in winter it's different. Whether you really want to help me or not I'm
sure I don't know, but if you do, the conversation below now might prove
of interest."

"I'm sure it would," Magee replied.

"Well, I have a scheme. Listen. Baldpate Inn is located in a temperance
county. That doesn't mean that people don't drink here--it simple means
that there's a lot of mystery and romance connected with the drinking.
Sometimes those who follow the god of chance in the card-room late at
night grow thirsty. Now it happens that there is a trap-door in the
floor of the card-room, up which drinks are frequently passed from the
cellar. Isn't that exciti