on. His handsome
dark face stood out clearly in the dusk. She could see the avid shine in
his eyes. She hated him all of a sudden, though hitherto she had secretly
rather admired him, though she had always steadily refused his
invitations.

For Madeline was wary. She knew how other girls had gone out with Willis
in his smart car and come back to give rather sketchy accounts of the
evening's pleasure jaunt. Her friend Linda had tried it once and remarked
later that Willis was some speed and that Madeline had the right hunch to
keep away from him.

But it happened that Madeline Taylor was the particular peach that Willis
Hubbard hankered after. He didn't like them too easy, ready to drop from
the bough at the first touch. All the same, he meant to have his way in
the end with Madeline. He had an excellent opinion of his powers as a
conquering male. He had, alas, plenty of data to warrant it in his
relations with the fair and sometimes weak sex.

"What's your hurry, dearie?" he asked now. "Come on for a spin. It's the
pink of the evening."

But she thanked him stiffly and refused, remembering Ted Holiday's honest
blue eyes.

"What are you so almighty prunes and prisms for, all of a sudden? It's
the wrong game to play with a man, I can tell you, if you want to have a
good time in the world. I say, Maidie, be a good girl and come out with
me to-morrow night. We'll have dinner somewhere and dance and make a
night of it. Say yes, you beauty. A girl like you oughtn't to stay cooped
up at home forever. It's against nature."

But again Madeline refused and moved away with dignity.

"Your grandfather will never know. You can plan to stay with Linda
afterward. I'll meet you by the sycamore tree just beyond the Bates'
place at eight sharp--give you the best time you ever had in your life.
Believe me, I'm some little spender when I get to going."

"No, thank you, Mr. Hubbard. I tell you I can't go."

He stared at the finality of her manner. He had no means of knowing that
he was being measured up, to his infinite disadvantage, with a blue eyed
lad who had stirred something in the girl before him that he himself
could never have roused in a thousand years. But he did know he was being
snubbed and the knowledge disturbed his fond conceit of self.

"Highty tighty with your 'Mr. Hubbards'! You will sing another tune by
to-morrow night. I'll wait at the sycamore and you'll be there. See if
you won't. You're no fool, Maidie. Yo