in
the dust three miles back. Oh, naturally; he would still be behind her.
Only---- If she stopped, just to look at the scenery, he would go on
ahead of her. She stopped for a moment--for a time too brief to indicate
that anything had gone wrong with her car. Staring back she saw that the
bug stopped also, and she fancied that Milt was out standing beside it,
peering with his palm over his eyes--a spy, unnatural and disturbing in
the wide peace.

She drove on a mile and halted again; again halted her attendant. He was
keeping a consistent two to four miles behind, she estimated.

"This won't do at all," she worried. "Flattering, but somehow----
Whatever sort of a cocoon-wrapped hussy I am, I don't collect scalps. I
won't have young men serving me--graft on them--get amusement out of
their struggles. Besides--suppose he became just a little more friendly,
each time he came up, all the way from here to Seattle?... Fresh.... No,
it won't do."

She ran the car to the side of the road.

"More trouble?" groaned her father.

"No. Just want to see scenery."

"But---- There's a good deal of scenery on all sides, without stopping,
seems to me!"

"Yes, but----" She looked back. Milt had come into sight; had paused to
take observations. Her father caught it:

"Oh, I see. Pardon me. Our squire still following? Let him go on ahead?
Wise lass."

"Yes. I think perhaps it's better to avoid complications."

"Of course." Mr. Boltwood's manner did not merely avoid Milt; it
abolished him.

She saw Milt, after five minutes of stationary watching, start forward.
He came dustily rattling up with a hail of "Distributor on strike
again?" so cheerful that it hurt her to dismiss him. But she had managed
a household. She was able to say suavely:

"No, everything is fine. I'm sure it will be, now. I'm afraid we are
holding you back. You mustn't worry about us."

"Oh, that's all right," breezily. "Something might go wrong. Say, is
this poetry book----"

"No, I'm sure nothing will go wrong now. You mustn't feel responsible
for us. But, uh, you understand we're very grateful for what you have
done and, uh, perhaps we shall see each other in Seattle?" She made it
brightly interrogatory.

"Oh, I see." His hands gripped the wheel. His cheeks had been too
ruddily tinted by the Dakota sun to show a blush, but his teeth caught
his lower lip. He had no starter on his bug; he had in his embarrassment
to get out and crank. He did it quietly