shouts continued. Louise looked up at him shyly.

"I don't mind," she said.

They halted in front of the three-story apartment where her parents
lived. John shifted clumsily from one foot to the other, not knowing how
to make a graceful adieu. The maiden came to his rescue with a
parrot-like imitation of Mrs. Martin's formula for such occasions.

"Thank you very much--and--I'm so glad to make your acquaintance."

Though the words were ridiculously stilted, John turned with a song on
his lips and skipped across to the home porch swing, where his mother
found him a moment later, and made him come in and get washed for
dinner.

That afternoon he walked north to the branch library to turn in his book
on which a six-cent fine impended. With the yellow card in his hand, he
went over to the fiction section of the open shelves. No more Hentys, no
more Optics. He was in love, and love stories he must have.

Silvey, Perry Alford, and Red sauntered up just before supper to find
out how the land lay. They found him stretched out on the porch swing
with the latest acquisition from the library beside him.

"Say, John," Silvey began nervously. He was afraid he had gone a little
too far that morning.

John raised dreamy eyes. What did he care about commonplace declarations
of friendship such as Silvey was making? His head was a-riot with the
thrilling words of the latest love passage between the hero and a
heroine so perfect that her like never existed beyond the covers of a
novel, and the interruption bored him.

"So you see," Perry chimed in as Bill finished, "we didn't want you to
be mad about it."

John waved a magnanimous dismissal. "But don't do it again," he
cautioned apathetically, "'cause--well--she's my girl. That's all."

And again his eyes sought the alluring pages of the book.

CHAPTER V

HE COMPOSES A LOVE MISSIVE

Sunday afternoon, Mr. Fletcher took his son for a long stroll in the
park. They joined the throng of people who promenaded up and down the
broad cement walk along the beach, and watched the antics of the
children with their transitory castles until this pleasure began to
pall. Then they retraced their steps westward to the big island and
explored the fascinating, winding paths along the shrubbery-covered
shores. Everywhere were signs of autumn. A light carpet of half-dried
leaves had already covered the ground. The song birds in the fast
yellowing, graceful willows were supplanted by