her in his arms tight, and kissed her hard.

"If you do that sort of thing I _won't_!" she said. "That wasn't in
the bargain."

"I know it wasn't," said Francis contritely. "Only you were such a
good little sport to promise. I won't do it again unless you say I
may. Honestly, Marjorie. Not even before people."

This sounded rather topsy-turvy, but after awhile it came to Marjorie
what he meant--just about the time she climbed out of the car, sat on
its step, and watched Francis competently unfurling and setting up two
small and seemingly inadequate tents and flooring them with balsam
boughs. He meant that there would have to be at least a semblance of
friendliness on account of the people they lived among. She felt more
frightened than ever.

Francis came up to her as if he had felt the wave of terror that went
over her.

"Now you aren't to worry. I'm going to keep my word. You're safe with
me, Marge. I'm going to take care of you as if I were your brother and
your father and your cousin Anna----"

She broke in with an irrepressible giggle.

"Oh, please don't go that far! Two male relatives will be
plenty. . . . I--I really got all the care from Cousin Anna that I
wanted."

He looked relieved at her being able to laugh, and bent over the tents
again in the moonlight.

"There you are. And here are the blankets. We're near enough to the
road so you won't be frightened, and enough in the bushes so we'll be
secluded. Good-night. I'll call you to-morrow, when it's time to go
on. I know this part of the country like my hand, and here's some
water in case you're thirsty in the night. Oh, and here are towels."

This last matter-of-fact touch almost set Marjorie off again in
hysterical laughter. Being eloped with by a gentleman who thoughtfully
set towels and water outside her door was really _too_ much. She
pinned the tent together with a hatpin, slipped off some of her
clothes--it did not seem enough like going to bed to undress
altogether, and she mistrusted the balsam boughs with blankets over
them that pretended to be a bed in the corner--and flung herself down
and laughed and laughed and laughed till she nearly cried.

She did not quite cry. The boughs proved to have been arranged by a
master hand, and she was very tired and exceedingly sleepy. She pulled
hairpins out of her hair in a half-dream, so that they had to be sought
for painstakingly next morning when she woke. She burrowed i