y Arthur himself mentioned the paper-wad
episode, laughing at it as though it were a sort of joke.

That was her opening.

"You shouldn't be so worldly, Arthur," she said in a voice of gentle
reproof.

"Worldly?" in some surprise.

She nodded seriously over her serviceable, unworldly brown collarette.

"How am I worldly?" he pursued, in a tone of one not entirely unpleased.

"Why--throwing wads in church--lack of respect for religious things--and
things like that."

"Oh, I see," said Arthur, his tone dropping a little. "I suppose it was
a silly thing to do," he added with a touch of stiffness.

"It was a profane kind of thing," she said, sadly. "Don't you see,
Arthur?"

"If I'm such a sinner, I don't see why you have anything to do with me."

It stirred her profoundly that he didn't laugh, scoff at her; she had
feared he might. She answered, very gravely:

"It's because I like you. You don't think it's a pleasure to me to find
fault with you, do you Arthur?"

"Then why find fault?" he asked good-naturedly.

"But if the faults are THERE?" she persevered.

"Let's forget about 'em, then," he answered with cheerful logic.
"Everybody can't be good like YOU, you know."

Missy felt nonplussed, though subtly pleased, in a way. Arthur DID
admire her, thought her "good"--perhaps, in time she could be a
good influence to him. But at a loss just how to answer his personal
allusion, she glanced backward over her shoulder. In the moonlight she
saw a tall man back there in the distance.

There was a little pause.

"I don't s'pose you'll be going to the Library again to-morrow night?"
suggested Arthur presently.

"Why, I don't know--why?" But she knew "why," and her knowledge gave her
a tingle.

"Oh, I was just thinking that if you had to look up some references or
something, maybe I might drop around again."

"Maybe I WILL have to--I don't know just yet," she murmured, confused
with a sweet kind of confusion.

"Well, I'll just drop by, anyway," he said. "Maybe you'll be there."

"Yes, maybe."

Another pause. Trying to think of something to say, she glanced again
over her shoulder. Then she clutched at Arthur's arm.

"Look at that man back there--following us! He looks something like
father!"

As she spoke she unconsciously quickened her pace; Arthur consciously
quickened his. He knew--as all of the boys of "the crowd" knew--Mr.
Merriam's stand on the matter of beaux.

"Oh!" cried Missy under her brea