alted.

For Diane had surprised a look of such keen regret in the young
aviator's face that they both colored hotly.

"Beastly luck!" stammered the young man lamely. "I _am_ disappointed.
I--I don't seem to have another match."

"Your cigarette is burning splendidly," hinted Diane coolly, "and
you've a match in your hand."

For a tense, magnetic instant the keen blue eyes flashed a curious
message of pleading and apology, then the aviator fell to whistling
softly, struck the match and finding no immediate function for it,
dropped it in the water.

"I don't in the least mind floating about," he stammered, his eyes
sparkling with silent laughter, "and possibly I'll make shore directly;
but Lord love us! don't send the sharp-shooteress--please! Better
abandon me to my fate."

Slim and straight as the silver birches by the water, Diane hurried
away up the lake-path.

"The young man," she flashed with a stamp of her foot, "is a very great
fool."

"Johnny," she said a little later to a little, bewhiskered man with
cheeks like hard red winter apples, "there's a sociable, happy-go-lucky
young man perched on an aeroplane in the middle of our lake. Better
take a rope and rescue him. I don't think he knows enough about
aeroplanes to be flying so promiscuously about the country."

Johnny Jutes collected a band of enthusiasts and departed.

"Nobody there, Miss Diane," reported young Allan Carmody upon
returning; "leastwise nobody that couldn't take care of himself. Only
a chap buzzin' almighty swift over the trees. Swooped down like a hawk
when he saw us an' waved his hand, laughin' fit to kill himself, an'
dropped Johnny a fiver an' gee! Miss Diane, but he could drive some!
Swift and cool-headed as a bird. He's whizzin' off like mad toward the
Sherrill place, with his motor a-hummin' an' a-purrin' like a cat.
Leanish, sunburnt chap with eyes that 'pear to be laughin' a lot."

Diane's eyes flashed resentfully and as she walked away to the house
her expression was distinctly thoughtful.

CHAPTER II

AN INDOOR TEMPEST

"If you're broke," said Starrett, leering, "why don't you marry your
cousin?"

Carl Granberry stared insolently across the table.

"Pass the buck," he reminded coolly. "And pour yourself some more
whiskey. You're only a gentleman when you're drunk, Starrett. You're
sober now."

Payson and Wherry laughed. Starrett, not yet in the wine-flush of his
heavy courtesy, passed the buck w