calm response. The boy was
proving himself anything but a simpleton.

"All right. Now we must hurry." Mary took firm hold of the tiny hand and
the two started for Gray Gables as fast as the boy's small feet would
permit of walking. It was not far from the La Salle's home to Gray
Gables. Mary was thankful for that. Not in the least oppressed with a
sense of his own shortcomings, Charlie kept up an animated conversation
during the short walk. He even proposed stopping in the middle of the
street to demonstrate for her special edification his prowess as a
fiddler. Mary vetoed this proposal, however. She was bent on reaching
Gray Gables as soon as possible.

Just inside the grounds she halted and viewed the house with speculative
eyes. Lights gleamed from the hall, the living room, and from one
upstairs window. Then, with Charlie's hand still in hers, she walked
boldly up the driveway and mounted the steps. Within the shielding
shadow of the veranda she paused for a long moment and listened. Turning
to the child she laid her finger on her lips with a gesture of silence.
Charlie beamed understandingly. Mary's strange behavior was as
interesting to him as though it were a new game invented for his
pleasure. He entered completely into the spirit of it.

"Now," whispered the girl, "Mary is going to ring the bell and run away.
Charlie must stand still and wait until someone opens the door. If no
one comes, Charlie must ring the bell again. And remember, he mustn't
tell who brought him home!"

"Charlie won't tell," gravely assured the youngster.

Mary pressed a firm finger on the bell and held it there for a second.
Then she darted down the steps, around a corner of the house and across
a wide stretch of frozen lawn. She remembered that she could climb the
low fence at the back of the grounds, cut across a field which lay below
them and emerge on a small street not far from the Deans' home. She did
not pause for breath until she reached the street she had in mind.
Flushed and panting from her wild flight it was several minutes before
she could compose herself sufficiently to go on toward home. Luckily for
her she met but two persons, a boy of perhaps fifteen and a laboring
man. Neither gave her more than the merest glance.

But her last ordeal was yet to come. What would Marjorie and her mother
think when they saw her? They would immediately guess that something
unusual must have happened to bring her home from the party be