at, and, running to the balustrade,
peered over.

"Where?" she asked.

"Up the road there," said Brockton, pointing. "Don't you see the man on
that yellow horse?"

She looked a moment, straining her eyes.

"Yes--that's John!" Waving her handkerchief and putting one hand to her
mouth, she cried out: "Hello!"

From the distance came the sound of a man's voice:

"Hello yourself!"

"Hurry up, you're late!" cried Laura, her face now flushed from
pleasure and excitement.

"Better late than never," came the rejoinder.

"Hurry up," she repeated.

"Not with this horse," was the answer.

Laura turned to Brockton, her face beaming. Enthusiastically she
exclaimed:

"Now, Will, does he look like a yellow reporter?"

The broker's face broke into a rather uncomfortable smile.

"He _is_ a good-looking chap."

The girl leaned far over the balustrade to watch her lover's progress.

"Oh, he's just simply more than that!" Turning quickly to the broker,
she asked: "Where's Mrs. Williams?"

He pointed indoors.

"She was in there playing bridge when I came out."

Going hurriedly to the door leading into the house, Laura called out:

"Mrs. Williams! Oh, Mrs. Williams!"

"What is it, my dear?" replied her hostess from within.

"Mr. Madison is coming up the path."

"That's good," came the reply. "He's just in time for dinner."

"Won't you come out and see him?"

"No, my child. I'm up to my neck in bridge. I'm six dollars and twenty
cents out now, and up against an awful streak of luck."

"Shall I invite him to dinner?"

"Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his fingers when he thinks of
me."

The girl ran back to Brockton, who was still standing at the edge of
the terrace, watching the rider's progress. Slipping her hand
involuntarily through the broker's arm and looking eagerly with him
over the balustrade, she asked with girlish enthusiasm:

"Do you like him?"

"I don't know him," replied Brockton with an amused smile.

"Well, do you think you'll like him?" she persisted.

"I hope I'll like him," he answered reservedly.

"Well, if you hope you'll like him, you ought to think you'll like him.
He'll turn the corner of that rock in just a minute, and then you can
see him. Do you want to see him?"

"Why, yes--do you?" he replied, amused at her girlish enthusiasm.

"Do I?" she echoed. "Why, I haven't seen him since last night. There he
is!" Waving her hand wildly, she cried out: "Hello, John!"

The r