ooked at him with a gentle tolerant smile. She belonged to a
race which had discovered the folly of being in a hurry about anything.
She knew that Doyle was not really in a hurry, though he pretended to
be.

"Amn't I coming?" she said.

Then she looked at the stranger. He, being a stranger and apparently
a man of some other nation, might perhaps really be in a hurry. Such
people sometimes are. But his eccentricities in no way mattered to
Mary Ellen. The wisdom of the ages was hers. The Irish have it. So
have eastern peoples. They will survive when the fussy races have worn
themselves out. She gave the stranger one glance of half contemptuous
pity and then looked at the motorcar.

"Now that you are here," said Doyle severely, "will you make yourself
useful?"

Mary Ellen stared at the motor-car. Her beautiful brown eyes opened very
wide. Her mouth opened slightly and expanded in a smile. A long line of
the black transferred from the kitchen kettle to her cheek reached from
her ear to the point of her chin. It was broken as her smile broadened
and finally part of it was lost in the hollow of a dimple which
appeared. Mary Ellen had never before seen so splendid a motor.

"Will you stop grinning," said Doyle, "and take the gentleman's things
into the house?"

"My name," said the stranger, "is Billing, Horace P. Billing."

"Do you hear that now?" said Doyle to Mary Ellen.

She approached the motor-car cautiously, still smiling. Mr. Billing
handed out two bags and then a photographic camera with tripod legs,
strapped together. Doyle took one of the bags. Mary Ellen took the
other. Mr. Billing himself carried the camera.

"It occurs to me," said Mr. Billing, "that this town kind of cries out
to be wakened up a bit."

"I wouldn't say," said Doyle, "but it might be the better of it."

Mary Ellen turned round and looked at Mr. Billing. She felt that he was
likely, if he were really bent on waking up the town, to begin with
her. It did not please her to be wakened up. She looked at Mr. Billing
anxiously. She wanted to know whether he were the kind of man who would
be able to rouse her to unusual activity.

"Where I come from," said Mr. Billing, "I'm reckoned to hustle quite
considerable. I'd rather like to try if I could get a move on your
folks."'

"You can try," said Doyle. "I'd be glad if you'd try, for the place
wants it."

No harm could possibly come of the effort; and it was likely to occupy
Mr. Billing for