his impressions for
what they may be worth. He did not formulate them; he merely consented
to stay a day longer. A half-moon was growing silvery when John said
good-by at the gate of the campus.

"Now, in the morning, Mr. Fair, I'll meet you somewhere between here and
the pike. I wish I could say you'd meet my mother, but she's in poor
health--been so ever since the war."

* * * * *

That night Garnet lingered in his wife's room to ask--

"Do you think Barb really missed the road, or was that----"

"Yes, they took the old creek road by mistake."

"Has Fair--said anything to her?"

"No; she didn't expect or wish it----"

"Well, I don't see why."

--"And he's hardly the sort to do unexpected things."

"They've agreed to ride right after breakfast. What d'you reckon that's
for?"

"Not what you wish. But still, for some reason she wants you to leave
him entirely to himself."

College being in session breakfast was early.

"Barb, you'll have to take care of Mr. Fair to-day, I reckon. You might
take my horse, sir. I'll be too busy indoors to use him."

The girl and her cavalier took but a short gallop. They had nearly got
back to the grove gate when he ventured upon a personal speech; but it
was only to charge her with the art of blundering cleverly.

She assured him that her blunders were all nature and her art accident.
"Whenever I want to be witty I get into a hurry, and haste is the
an-ti-dote of wit."

"Miss Garnet," he thought, as her eyes rested calmly in his, "your gaze
is too utterly truthful."

"Ah!" said Barbara, "here's Mr. March now."

Fair wished he might find out why Miss Garnet should be
out-man[oe]uvring her father.

XXXI.

MR. FAIR VENTURES SOME INTERROGATIONS

The air was full of joy that morning, and John boyishly open and hearty.

"Fact is, Mr. Fair, I don't care for young ladies' company. Half of them
are frauds and the rest are a delusion and a snare--ha-ha-ha! Miss
Garnet is new goods, as the boys say, and I'm not fashionable. Even our
mothers ain't very well acquainted yet; though my mother's always
regretted it; their tastes differ. My mother's literary, you know."

"They say Miss Garnet's a great romp--among other girls--and an
unmerciful mimic."

"Don't you rather like that?"

"Who, me? Lord, yes! The finest girl I know is that way--dances Spanish
dances--alone with other girls, of course. The church folks raised Cain
about i