"And I'm much afraid that we've got to stand for a lot more of gush this
afternoon," continued Darrin.

"At the reception? Oh, yes! I wish we could desert the town and get away
somewhere to hide."

The affair for the afternoon was a reception for which Laura Bentley had
sent out hurried invitations to a lot of the former High School boys and
girls of Gridley. Though Laura was more especially interested in the U.
S. Military Academy at West Point--because Dick Prescott was there--yet
she did not show undue partiality to the Army.

"I'm sorry Laura didn't wait a fortnight," Dan continued.

"Oh, well, she doesn't understand," Dave urged.

"You're going, of course?"

"I surely am. I wouldn't slight that splendid girl. She's a whole lot to
me, Danny boy, both for her own sake and Dick Prescott's."

Even the short stroll, however, between Belle Meade's home and Laura's,
was bound to bring Dave Darrin again into the unwished-for limelight.

He and Belle had turned into Main Street together, and were walking
along, chatting, when Belle's eyes flashed suddenly.

"There's that horrid wretch Ardmore," she murmured in an undertone.

"Don't believe I know him," Darrin returned.

"Then you haven't been deprived of much," replied Belle, in a tone that
was very nearly bitter. "I've been meaning to tell you about him, Dave,
but other matters have been cropping up and it has escaped me until now."

"What's wrong with Ardmore?" asked Dave.

"He's posing as an admirer of mine."

"I can't quarrel with his taste," smiled Darrin.

"But he annoys me."

"Has he dared to do that?" demanded Dave, a quick flash in his eyes.

"Not in any way that it would be easy to resent," Belle assured him.

"Who is this fellow Ardmore?"

"He appears to be a gentleman--at least in his ordinary conduct," Belle
Meade answered. "He moved here last spring with his parents. The father
is a retired lawyer, and wealthy. The Ardmores move in a rather good set
in town. About a month ago Caspar Ardmore, the young man, met me at a
church affair. Ever since then he has all but waylaid me. Several times
he has tried to walk with me when we met, and has often tried to see me
home from church or elsewhere. I've been almost downright rude to him,
and have shown him in every way I can that I don't wish to continue
acquaintance. But he's hard to discourage."

"He hasn't insulted you?" asked Dave quietly.

"Oh, dear, no! If he had, I think I might have been