ould be old, or fat, or married, or something like that."

"What have I done," murmured a plaintive voice, "to deserve such unkind
suspicions? Why old and fat?"

"Because rich. They usually go together--in books, at any rate. And it
would be just our luck to have you married, when we're so dreadfully in
need of beaux. _Are_ you married?"

"Alas, yes! But does marriage bar one absolutely?"

Jacqueline considered. "Well, no, I don't suppose it does--except for
marrying purposes. Not unless you're old and fat, too," she added,
gravely.

"I do assure you!" Mr. Farwell leaped nimbly out of the car and struck
an attitude in the full glare of the headlight, as one who would say,
"Take a look at me. Gaze your fill."

Jacqueline did so with full and unqualified approval. Mr. Farwell was
distinctly worth looking at.

"What a pity you are married!" she said sadly. "It will be a great blow
to Jemima.--I must go home and break it to her. I suppose she's still at
the telephone assembling the clans. Did she telephone you too, Philip,
man of peace?"

"Naturally, sensible girl that she is, instead of charging about in the
dark like an avenging fury in pink gingham."

She made a face at him. "Just the same, it was me and not Jemmy who
saved Henderson a whipping!" she remarked, with more satisfaction than
grammar.

"And where is Henderson now?"

Her face went blank. "Good gracious, I forgot all about him! He's tied
to a tree in front of the cabin."

"I'm not surprised. Perhaps we'd better go and untie him," suggested
Benoix. "Thanks for the lift, Mr. Farwell. It saved me a long walk. My
old horse was too done to take out this evening. Are you ready,
Jacqueline?"

He caught one of the grazing thoroughbreds and straddled it with an ease
that filled the author's soul with envy. Channing was no horseman.

"Do you mean to say you are going to ride that prancing beast without
either bit or bridle?" he murmured.

The clergyman smiled. "It doesn't take much riding to persuade a horse
to go home. Besides, Mrs. Kildare's horses know me. Come, Jacqueline."

Farwell protested. "Why not let me run Miss Kildare home in the machine,
while you go and liberate the late victim? She must be tired after such
an experience."

Benoix answered for her, rather brusquely. "Jacqueline is too young to
know what it is to be tired. I'll go home with her, thanks. Good night."

He turned up the lane, and the girl followed, leaving her scattered