May, eh?" he continued uncertainly.

Her eyes danced.

"Oh, we MAY think of some other way!"

"Tony's not to be trusted, you think?"

"No-o! I wouldn't dare. He's simply mad to have Jerry win. He'd let it
out involuntarily."

"The maid can go for a plumber?"

"Statia? She's working for Joe Bates. And both the boys in the
plumber's shop are in college, anyway."

"You might telephone for a plumber from San Francisco?" suggested
Anthony, afterthought.

"Yes, I could do that." Miss Mix brightened. "No, I can't, either," she
lamented. "Elsie White, the long-distance operator, is working for Joe
Bates, too." She meditated again for a space, then raised her head,
listening. "They're calling me!" she whispered.

With a gesture for silence, she sprang to the door. Outside, some one
shouted:

"O Sally!"

"Hello, Tony!" she called hardily, in answer. "Lunch, is it? No, don't
come down! I'm just coming up!"

With a warning glance over her shoulder for Anthony, she closed the
door and was gone.

III

A long hour followed, the silence broken only by occasional low
comments from the chickens, and by voices and footsteps coming and
going on the side of the chicken house where the street lay. Anthony,
his back against the rough wall, his hands in his pockets, had fallen
into a smiling revery when Miss Mix suddenly returned. She carried a
plate of luncheon, and two files.

"We are safe!" she reassured him. "The boys think I am playing bridge,
and I've locked the gate on the inside. Now, files on parade!"

She tucked the filmy skirts of her white frock about her, sat down on a
box, and began to grate away his bonds without an instant's delay. Her
warm, smooth hands he found very charming to watch. Loose strands of
hair fell across her flushed, smooth cheek. Anthony attacked his lunch
with sudden gayety.

"How much we have to talk about!" he said, observing contentedly that
five minutes' filing made almost no impression upon his chains. She
colored suddenly, but met his eyes with charming gravity.

"Haven't we?" she assented simply.

"Why, no, it won't break his heart, Mr. Fox. I think he'll even be a
little relieved to be able to go on serenely with the Peppers and the
Rogerses. He's having lovely times there!"

"Oh, if his mother had lived, of course I should have written to her;
but I knew you were a very busy man, Mr. Fox. Tony hardly ever speaks
of his Aunt Fanny. She's a great club woman, I know. So