Myrtle avenue, two blocks north of the orange grove, and the four
laughing young people were soon there.

"Is this really the fountain Ponce de Leon thought would give eternal
youth?" asked Ruth, half-seriously, as they stood near the little
roofed-over spring.

"That is the legend," declared Paul. "Of course that's not saying it's
so. But the spring has one peculiar quality."

"What's that?" asked Russ.

"The waters rise and fall without any particular cause. Sometimes they
are higher than at others, and none of the other wells, or springs, in
this vicinity do that. So you see it may be miraculous after all."

"Let's try it," suggested Alice, who was always ready for anything new.

"Oh, but perhaps it isn't good water," objected Ruth, more cautious. "We
may get typhoid, or something like that."

"Nonsense!" laughed Alice, but she looked questioningly at Paul.

"Lots of people drink the water," he said. "Allow me," and he lowered a
small bucket attached to a rope made fast to the roof of the well.

He drew it up, brimming over, and with a low bow handed some of the water
to Alice, pouring it into a small collapsible cup he happened to have
with him.

"Drink! And may you never grow old!" he said, and there was more of
meaning in his eyes than in his words.

"We'll all sample it!" cried Russ, and as Ruth was induced, just for the
fun of the thing, to try some, they heard the murmur of voices behind
them.

"Save some for us!" was the call, and Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon came
up.

"We'll all be young together," said Alice. Though she and her sister were
not very chummy with the two former vaudeville actresses, they were not
exactly unfriendly. And who could be unfriendly in that beautiful spot,
and on the reputed site of the Fountain of Youth?

"The more you drink the younger you get!" bantered Paul, as Miss Dixon
asked him for a second cup.

"Gracious, then I'll turn into a baby," exclaimed Miss Pennington. "I've
been here once before this morning, and I took several glasses."

"Back to juvenile roles for yours!" cried Russ. "Mr. Pertell will have to
look for another leading lady."

"I haven't noticed any effect yet," she said, as she took out a vanity
box, and surreptitiously used her chamois, leaving a more brilliant tint
on her face.

"It takes time," went on Russ, half-seriously. "You will awaken in the
morning, crying for a rattle."

Thus they made merry near the well, with its queer squa