way of a reliever of
embarrassment, but it proved to be something of the kind in this
particular case. Arethusa's tongue was loosened again, and she
chattered of inconsequential topics of variety, but none of them
brought such moments as the one just past. There was much to be said to
Mr. Bennet, for they had grown to be great friends in the last few
weeks and had many interests in common.

It was an unusually nice little luncheon that Mr. Bennet had ordered;
and it was perfect eaten so, just the two of them, thought Arethusa. It
was prolonged quite beyond the time generally allotted for luncheons,
for it was almost half-past three when they emerged from the Hotel.

"Well, what shall we do now?" asked Mr. Bennet. He glanced at his watch
and then shut it with a snap. "I don't believe I'll go back to the
office again this afternoon; that is.... How about you? Are you free?
What do you say to a moving-picture show?"

Arethusa was delighted. She had nothing whatever to do, and she adored
the movies. She had seen a few with Ross and Elinor.

So Mr. Bennet stepped back into the Hotel to telephone Miss Ford that
he would not be back that afternoon; and then they strolled side by
side up the street, he and Arethusa, hunting for the picture show which
seemed to have the most to offer.

The one they finally chose to attend proved to be so exciting that
Arethusa scarcely breathed a word to him until it was all over, and the
film had gone around and started to go around again, so that she could
be perfectly sure she had seen every bit of it. There was a great deal
of honest realism about the acting done on the screen for Arethusa,
photography though it might be. A smothered scream had attested to Mr.
Bennet the genuineness of her fear for her own safety during a portion
of this picture's running, and her sudden jump when the evil-looking
Indian had shot the handsome cowboy, and the little sound of distress
she had made, told him that although movie guns were said to fire blank
cartridges, they inflicted actual damage for Arethusa.

It was dark when they left the moving-picture theatre, and well after
five. Winter days seem woefully short.

"Well, what shall we do now?" asked Mr. Bennet, for the second time. "I
suppose, though, it will be home. It's so late."

Arethusa stopped short in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, full of
folks who were plainly impatient to get somewhere, and very probably it
was home, flowing past