great deal of attention on Juanita. Although she
pretended not to notice this, Mrs. Morton was waiting her opportunity,
and it came when Greg strolled away alone beneath the trees. In a few
moments she made an excuse and followed him. Finding him seated on a
rustic bench in a little nook, she uttered an exclamation of pretended
surprise over discovering him there.

"Why, Greg," she fluttered, "are you here?"

He rose at once.

"Yes, I'm here," he answered. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Morton, if I
alarmed you. I'll not bother you if you wish to sit here."

"Oh, you foolish boy!" she laughed, placing her hands on his breast and
pushing him back on the seat. "Sit down. Isn't this a delightful place!
We're all alone here by ourselves, and nobody can see or hear us."

She placed herself at his side.

"It might be somewhat embarrassing for you if any one should discover us
here," said Greg.

"Embarrassing for me? What a foolish idea! You always were a foolish
fellow, Greg Carker."

"You've told me so before."

"And told you the truth."

"I presume you still think so. You thought me foolish because of my
socialistic beliefs. You used to make sport of me. I haven't forgotten
that."

"The trouble with you, Greg, is that you take things too seriously. You
never can see a joke. If any one plays a joke on you, you're offended,
and you try to get even. You've been getting even with me to-day."

"In what manner?"

"By the way you made eyes at that insipid creature, Juanita."

"I wouldn't call her insipid if I were in your place," he remonstrated.
"It doesn't seem nice of you, Madge--I mean Mrs. Morton."

"Oh, call me Madge. There is no reason why you should be so extremely
formal. I knew you before I met George Morton."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought I knew you," he retorted, "but I discovered I was mistaken."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it is true."

"I don't believe you ever cared for me, Greg."

"And I know you never really cared for me. If you had, you'd not have
cast me over as you did for Morton."

"But I couldn't do anything with you, Gregory. You persisted in throwing
your life away."

"In what manner?"

"In becoming a socialist. In lecturing on socialism in defiance of your
father's wishes and my entreaties. Your father threatened to cut you off
without a dollar."

"I believe he's made a will in which I am given the liberal sum of one
dollar," said Carker. "So you see he has not