h us next Sunday, Mr.
Belding. I hear you are too busy for a weekday diversion."

Elsie smiled approval and they turned down the long embankment.

Belding looked after them with a shade of resentment. She was, he had
decided, just like her photograph. In the distance he had seen Clark
walking quickly towards his visitors. They met a hundred yards away
and Clark's eyes began to twinkle.

"How do you do. I seem to know you quite well already."

Elsie flushed. She had pictured Clark in her romantic brain, but this
trim figure resembled none of her expectations.

"I'm very sorry," he went on quickly, "that urgent business will keep
me in the office all afternoon. I've just a few minutes."

"Then we'll be off at once," announced the judge.

"Not at all, if there's anything here to interest you, the place is
yours."

Elsie glanced at him curiously. She was conscious both of
disappointment and of a certain invitational thrill. His assurance was
not just what she had looked for, but yet it stimulated her thought.
He was very different from every one else. Decision marked him and a
flash that was breathless seemed to reach her. Imagination lay in his
quick change of expression and in the depths of the gray eyes. This
was the man who dreamed great dreams.

"The next time you are up this way I hope you and your friends will
come to the block house." He was looking at her with evident interest.
"You may not like it, but, I think you will,--it makes a background for
this"; he pointed to the works, "and I find it restful. I live quite
alone except for a Japanese cook, and," he added with a laugh, "he's
part of the background."

Elsie accepted and, for an instant, caught Clark's full glance. In a
fraction of time there passed between them a swift and subconscious
exchange of understanding that subsided almost ere it was born. Then
he took off his hat and hastened towards his office.

For a little while she did not speak, for she was filled with the
perception that between herself and this stranger lay something they
held in common. Could it be imagination?

"What do you think of Mr. Belding?" asked the judge reflectively as he
stepped round a shattered boulder.

Elsie started. "Why do you ask?"

The judge's brows went up. "Why shouldn't I?"

The girl pulled herself together with an effort. "I was thinking of
something else when you spoke,--he seems very nice indeed."

"He has a good salary, a go