's spoiling to quiz you."

"To quiz me? What about?"

"You wouldn't expect me to tell, if I knew. Go on and find out."

Brockway went forward with languid curiosity.

"I thought you had quite deserted us," said the little lady. "Sit down
and give an account of yourself. Where have you been all afternoon?"

"With my ancients and invalids," Brockway replied.

Mrs. Burton shook a warning finger at him. "Don't begin by telling me
fibs. Miss Vennor is neither old nor infirm."

Brockway reddened and made a shameless attempt to change the subject.

"How did you like the supper at Carvalho?" he asked.

The general agent's wife laughed as one who refuses to be diverted.
"Neither better nor worse than you did. We had a buffet luncheon--baked
beans and that exquisite tomato-catchup, you know--served in our
section, and we saw one act of a charming little comedy playing itself
on the platform at the supper station. Be nice and tell me all about it.
Did the cold-blooded gentleman with the overseeing eyes succeed in
overtaking you?"

Brockway saw it was no use, and laughed good-naturedly. "You are a born
detective, Mrs. Burton; I wouldn't be in Burton's shoes for a farm in
the Golden Belt," he retorted. "How much did you really see, and how
much did you take for granted?"

"I saw a young man, who didn't take the trouble to keep his emotions out
of his face, marching up and down the platform with Miss Vennor on his
arm. Then I saw an elderly gentleman pacing back and forth between two
feminine chatterboxes, and trying to outgeneral the two happy people.
Naturally, I want to know more. Did you really go without your supper to
take a constitutional with Miss Gertrude? And did the unhappy father
contrive to spoil your _tete-a-tete_?"

There was triumph in Brockway's grin.

"No, he didn't--not that time; I out-witted him. And I didn't go without
my supper, either. I had the honor of dining with the President's party
in the Naught-fifty."

"You did! Then I'm sure she must have invited you; _he'd_ never do it.
How did it happen?"

Brockway told the story of the disabled cooking-stove, and Mrs. Burton
laughed till the tears came. "How perfectly ridiculous!" she exclaimed,
between gasps. "And she took your part and invited you to dinner, did
she? Then what happened?"

"I was properly humiliated and sat upon," said Brockway, in wrathful
recollection. "They talked about everything under the sun that I'd never
heard of, and I