eeably
aware that he was a pleasing figure in his artist's smock and the
flowing scarf which he always put on when he painted.

No one noticed him, however, for everyone was discussing the return of
the "Smith boy," and the five dollars which Mr. Appel, the railway
magnate, had unexpectedly contributed to the purse that he was going to
present to him on behalf of the guests.

Miss Spenceley was on the veranda as he had surmised she would be, and
Wallie debated as to whether he should wait until discovered and urged
to show his roses, or frankly offer his work for criticism.

While he hesitated, the clatter of hoofs and what appeared to be a
serious runaway on the side avenue brought everyone up standing. The
swaying vehicle was a laundry wagon, and when it turned in at the
entrance to the grounds of The Colonial, the astonished guests saw that
not only had the horse a driver but a rider!

It was not a runaway. On the contrary, the person on the horse's back
was using his heels and his hat at every jump to get more speed out of
the amazed animal.

The wagon stopped in front of the hotel with the driver grinning
uncertainly, while a soldierly figure sprang over the wheel to wring the
hand of Smith, the gardener. Another on the horse's back replaced his
service cap at an extraordinary angle and waited nonchalantly for the
greetings to be over.

Before he went to the army "Willie" Smith had been a bashful boy who
blushed when the guests spoke to him, but he faced them now with the
assurance of a vaudeville entertainer as he introduced his "buddy":

"Pinkey Fripp, of Wyoming--a hero, ladies and gentlemen! The grittiest
little soldier in the A.E.F., with a medal to prove it!"

Followed an account of the deed of reckless courage for which Pinkey had
been decorated, and the Smith boy told it so well that everyone's eyes
had tears in them. Mrs. Appel, fumbling for her handkerchief, dropped
her ball of yarn over the railing, where the cat wound it among the rose
bushes so effectively that to disentangle it were an endless task.

The subject of the eulogy stared back unabashed at the guests, who
stared at him in admiration and curiosity. Unflattered, unmoved, he
sagged to one side of the bare-backed horse with the easy grace of one
accustomed to the saddle. No one just like him ever had come under the
observation of the august patrons of The Colonial.

Pinkey Fripp was about five feet four and square as a bulldog.
"Har