ed the captain. "Does he have an official announcer?"

"No, but you'll hear his car before you see it."

"New horn?"

"No, new car-new color-new everything!" said Garrigan. "He's just bought
a new ten thousand dollar French car, and it's painted red, white and
blue, and-"

"Red, white and blue?" chorused the other three men.

"Yes. Very patriotic. His friends don't know whether he's honoring Uncle
Sam or the French Republic. However, it's all the same. His car is a
wonder."

"I must have a brush with him!" murmured Captain Poland.

"Don't. You'll lose out," advised Garrigan. "It can do eighty on fourth
speed, and Carwell is sporty enough to slip it into that gear if he
needed to."

"Um! Guess I'll wait until I get my new machine, then," decided the
captain.

There was more talk, but Bartlett gradually dropped out of the
conversation and went to walk about the club grounds.

Maraposa was a social, as well as a golfing, club, and the scene of many
dances and other affairs. It lay a few miles back from the shore near
Lakeside, in New Jersey. The clubhouse was large and elaborate, and the
grounds around it were spacious and well laid out.

Not far away was Loch Harbor, where the yachts of the club of which
Captain Gerry Poland was president anchored, and a mile or so in the
opposite direction was Lake Tacoma, on the shore of which was Lakeside.
A rather exclusive colony summered there, the hotel numbering many
wealthy persons among its patrons.

Harry Bartlett, rather wishing he had gone in for golf more devotedly,
was wandering about, casually greeting friends and acquaintances,
when he heard his name called from the cool and shady depths of a
summer-house on the edge of the golf links.

"Oh, Minnie! How are you?" he cordially greeted a rather tall and dark
girl who extended her slim hand to him. "I didn't expect to see you
today."

"Oh, I take in all the big matches, though I don't play much myself,"
answered Minnie Webb. "I'm surprised to find you without a caddy,
though, Harry."

"Too lazy, I'm afraid. I'm going to join the gallery to-day. Meanwhile,
if you don't mind, I'll sit in here and help you keep cool."

"It isn't very hard to do that to-day," and she moved over to make room
for him. "Isn't it just perfect weather!"

At one time Minnie Webb and Harry Bartlett had been very close
friends--engaged some rumors had it. But now they were jolly good
companions, that was all.

"Seen the Carwells