mail and papers.
Sometimes he gives me a lift about here."

"No. There was no conveyance of any sort and I really expected one. I
wish to get to Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire's."

"Oh!"

The girl had been examining Peter furtively, as though trying vainly to
place him definitely in her mental collection of human bipeds. Now she
stared at him with interest.

"Oh, you're goin' to McGuire's!"

Peter nodded. "If I can ever find the way."

"You're one of the new detectives?"

"Detective!" Peter laughed. "No. Not that I'm aware. I'm the new
superintendent and forester."

"Oh!"

The girl was visibly impressed, but a tiny frown puckered her brow.

"What's a forester?" she asked.

"A fellow who looks after the forests."

"The forests don't need any lookin' after out here in the barrens. They
just grow."

"I'm going to teach them to grow better."

The girl looked at him for a long moment of suspicion. She had taken off
her hat and the ruddy sunlight behind her made a golden halo all about
her head. Her hands he had noted were small, the fingers slender. Her
nose was well shaped, her nostrils wide, the angle of her jaw firmly
modeled and her slender figure beneath the absurd garments revealed both
strength and grace. But he did not dare to stare at her too hard or to
question her as to her garments. For all that Peter knew it might be the
custom of Burlington County for women to wear blue denim trousers.

And her next question took him off his guard.

"You city folk don't think much of yourselves, do you?"

"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said Peter politely, marking
the satirical note.

"To think you can make these trees grow better!" she sniffed.

"Oh, I'm just going to help them to help themselves."

"That's God's job, Master."

Peter smiled. She wouldn't have understood, he thought, so what was the
use of explaining. There must have been a superior quality in Peter's
smile, for the girl put on her hat and came down into the road.

"I'm goin' to Black Rock," she said stiffly, "follow me." And she went
off with a quick stride down the road.

Peter Nichols took up his bag and started, with difficulty getting to a
place beside her.

"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd much rather walk with you than behind
you."

She shrugged a shoulder at him.

"Suit yourself," she said.

In this position, Peter made the discovery that her profile was quite as
interesting as her full face, but she no long