ou," he said, with a louder echo of her manner of
greeting him, a little earlier. "It has been such a pleasure to watch
you dance. It is really charming to meet you here. If I return to
Plattville I shall surely remember to tell Miss Briscoe."

At this she surprised him with a sudden, clear look in the eyes, so
reproachful, so deep, so sad, that he started. She took her flowers
from Macauley, who had the air of understanding the significance of such
ceremonies very well, and saying, "Shan't we all go out on the terrace?"
placed her arm in Harkless's, and conducted him (and not the others)
to the most secluded corner of the terrace, a nook illumined by one
Japanese lantern; to which spot it was his belief that he led her. She
sank into a chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue
tent-pole. He could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to
this dazzling, if reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune.

"'_If_ you go back to Plattville!'" she said in a low voice. "What do
you mean?"

"I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere
else." Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and
which the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took
little thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the
gladness it was to be with her again.

"'Somewhere else?' Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?"

"The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think."

"But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not
deteriorated very much?"

"No," he said; "it's better than it ever was before."

"What!" she cried, with a little gasp.

"You're so astounded at my modesty?"

"But please tell me what you mean," she said quickly. "What happened to
it?"

"Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject? I'll tell you how well Judge
Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your
summer in the north."

"No," she answered earnestly. "Don't you remember my telling you that I
am interested in newspaper work?"

"I have even heard so from others," he said, with an instant of dryness.

"Please tell me about the 'Herald'?"

"It is very simple. Your friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a
relative six feet high with his coat off, a traction engine for energy
and a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type writer
suffering from an impediment in its