one of my very best friends."

"Am I?" demanded Quin with terrible directness.

It was Eleanor's turn to trace patterns in the sand.

"Well, you see----" she began.

"No, I don't." Quin rose indignantly. "There's nobody in the world that
would do any more for you than I would. I may be chasing the kite in
thinking that you _want_ me to do anything, but if you'll just let me
under the ribbon, you bet your life I'll give Phipps and the rest of the
talent a run for their money!"

He stood staring hard down the road for a moment, while she sat in
embarrassed silence; then he broke forth again:

"I know you don't want me to say these things. I know every time you head
me off. But if you'll just let me get it off my chest this once, then I
promise to keep the cork in if it busts the bottle!"

Eleanor laughed in spite of herself.

"All right," she said; "I'll listen."

"Well," said Quin, "it's this way. I know you don't care a tinker's damn
for me in the way I care for you. But you can't deny that you do like me
some. You wouldn't talk to me like you do and let me do things for you if
you didn't. What I want you to promise is that whenever you need a
friend--a _best_ friend, mind you--you will come straight to me."

He looked worth coming to as he stood there, big and strong and earnest;
and Eleanor, being young and a woman, promptly forgot her good
resolutions not to encourage him, and rose impulsively and held out her
hand.

"I do promise, Quin," she said, "and I thank you with all my heart."

Then a curious and unexpected thing happened to her. As she stood there
on the lonely country road with her hand in his, a curious, deep, still
feeling crept over her, a queer sensation of complete satisfaction that
she never remembered to have felt before. For a long moment she stood
there, her cheek almost touching that outrageous plaid tie that had so
recently excited her derision. Then she snatched her hand away. "Look
out!" she warned. "They are coming."

Two minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Ranny, emerging from the thicket with
their hands full of wild flowers, found Eleanor seated in the car in a
bored attitude, while Quin solicitously examined a rear tire.

"It's all settled!" Mr. Ranny cried exultingly. "The farm is ours!"

CHAPTER 17

Although Quin had taken himself and his career seriously before Eleanor's
home-coming, it was nothing in comparison to the fever of energy that