tter
over. It's the chance we've been looking for for ten years, and I'm not
going to let it slip."

The next hour was one Eleanor never forgot. She and Quin, confident of
the success of their conspiracy, were also jubilant over what they
regarded as Mr. Ranny's possible emancipation. They already saw him a
reformed character, a prosperous and contented farmer, no longer a menace
to the peace of the family. So elated were they that, instead of going to
the road, they explored the woods, and ended by racing down the hill like
a couple of irresponsible children.

When they at last got back to the car, Eleanor, disheveled and limp, sank
on the running-board and laughingly made room for Quin beside her. She
had quite forgotten to be grown up and temperamental, a fact that Quin
was prompt to take advantage of.

"See here!" he said. "Am I going to get a commission for all this?"

"How much do you want?"

"I want a lot!" he threatened.

He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, tracing figures in
the sand with his shoe. Eleanor noticed the nice way his hair grew on the
back of his neck and the white skin that met the clear brown skin at the
collar-line. In spite of his bigness and his strength, he seemed very
young and defenseless when it came to his dealings with girls.

It was useless to deny that she knew what he wanted. His eyes had been
saying it persistently each time they had met hers for three months. They
had whispered it after that first dance at the Hawaiian Garden; they had
murmured it through the hospital days; they had shouted it this afternoon
at Uncle Ranny's, so loud that she thought every one must surely hear.
But when a young lady is engaged in the exciting business of playing with
fire she doesn't always heed even a shouted warning. As long as she was
very careful, she told herself, and snuffed out every blaze that
threatened to become unmanageable, no damage would be done. The present
moment was one requiring snuffers.

"We can't begin to pay you what we owe you," she said in her most
conventional tone. "If things go as we hope they will, it will mean
everything to Uncle Ranny as well as to Papa Claude."

"I didn't do it for them only," Quin blurted out. "I didn't want you to
borrow money from Captain Phipps."

The temptation to encourage this special spark was not to be resisted.

"You don't love Mr. Phipps very much, do you?" she said.

"No; do you?"

"Well, I _like_ him. He is