ar too handsome and too prematurely developed physically to be
devoid of experience of the ways of the opposite sex. Like Ophelia she
knew there were tricks in the world and she liked frank Ted Holiday the
better for reminding her of them. "I won't do it," she promised. "That
is, unless you don't ever come back yourself. I don't know what I'll do
then--something awful, maybe."

"I'll come fast enough. I'll come to-morrow." he added obeying a sudden
impulse, Ted fashion.

"Will you?" The girl's face flushed with delight. "When?"

"To-morrow afternoon. I can't dodge the ivy stuff in the morning. Will
four o'clock do all right?"

"Yes. Come here to this same place."

"I say, Madeline, can't I come to the house? I hate doing it like this."

"No, you can't. If you want to see me you'll have to do it this way. It's
lots nicer here than in the house, anyway."

Ted acquiesced, since he had no choice, and rose, announcing that it was
time to go now.

"We don't have to go yet. I told Grandpa I was going to spend the
evening with my friend, Linda Bates. He won't know. We can stay as long
as we like."

"I am afraid we can't," said Ted decidedly. "Come on, my lady." He held
out both hands and Madeline let him draw her to her feet, though she was
pouting a little at his gainsaying of her wishes.

"You may kiss me now," she said suddenly, lifting her face to his.

But Ted backed away. The code was still on. A girl of his own kind he
would have kissed in a moment at such provocation, or none. But he had
an odd feeling of needing to protect this girl from herself as well as
from himself.

"You had more sense than I did last night. Let's follow your lead instead
of mine," he said. "It's better."

"But Ted, you will come to-morrow?" she pleaded. "You won't forget or go
back on your promise?"

"Of course, I'll come," promised Ted again readily.

Five minutes later they parted, he to take his car, and she to stroll in
the opposite direction toward her friend Linda's house.

"He is a dear," she thought. "I'm glad he wouldn't kiss me, so there,"
she said aloud to a dusty daisy that peered up at her rather mockingly
from the gutter.

An automobile horn honked behind her. She stepped aside, but the
car stopped.

"Well, here is luck. Where are you going, my pretty maid?" called a gay,
bold voice.

She turned. The speaker was one Willis Hubbard, an automobile agent by
profession, lady's man and general Lothario by avocati