ned in her horse with a jerk and a clank of relics.

"Philip Poynter!" she exclaimed.

The driver laughed.

"I wonder," said he, "if you know what a shock you've thrown into your
aunt by staying out in the flat-woods until dark. She once knew a man
who lost himself. Incidentally they are mighty deceptive to wander
about in. The trees are so far apart that one never seems to get into
them. And then, having meanwhile effectively got in without knowing
it, one never seems to get out."

"Where," demanded Diane indignantly, "did you come from anyway?"

"If you hadn't been so ambitious," Philip assured her with mild
resentment, "you'd have seen me at breakfast. I arrived at Sherrill's
last night. As it is, I've been sitting here an hour or so watching
you swap wildwood yarns with the aborigine yonder. And Ann Sherrill
sent me after you in Dick's speediest car. Ho, uncle!"

An aged negro appeared from certain shadows to which Philip had lazily
consigned him.

"Uncle," said Philip easily, "will ride your horse back to Sherrill's
for you. I picked him up on the road. You'll motor back with me?"

Diane certainly would not.

"Then," regretted Philip, "I'm reduced to the painful and spectacular
expedient of just grazing the heels of your fiery steed with Dick's
racer all the way back to Sherrill's and matching up his hoof-beats on
the shell-road with a devil's tattoo on the horn."

Greatly vexed, Diane resigned her horse to the waiting negro, who rode
off into the moonlight with a noisy clank. Mr. Poynter's face was
radiant.

"And after running the chance of a night in the pine barrens," he mused
admiringly, "you amble out of the danger zone in the most
matter-of-fact manner with your saddle clanking like a bone-yard. I
don't wonder your aunt fusses. What made the racket?"

"Bones and shells and things."

"Well, for such absolute irresponsibility as you've developed since
you've been out of the chastening jurisdiction of the hay-camp, I'd
respectfully suggest that you marry the very first bare-headed
motorist, smoking a cigarette, whom you happened to see as you rode out
of the pine-woods."

"Philip," said Diane disdainfully, "the moon--"

"Is on my head again," admitted Philip. "I know. It always gets me.
We'd better motor around a bit and clear my brain out. I'd hate
awfully to have the Sherrills think I'm in love."

Almost anything one could say, reflected Diane uncomfortably, inspired
Philip