his eyes
went after her quite as they would have followed the flight of a
brilliant bird. Then, as in sheer youth, as one who during a night of
refreshing sleep has been steeped body and soul in the elixir that is
youth's own, she yielded her young body up to an extravagant dance,
whirling away as light as thistledown across the meadow. Hands clapped
after her; voices, men's voices, filled her ears with a clamour of
praise as extravagant as her own dancing; the guests went trooping gaily
after her. King seized his chance and went swiftly toward the house. As
he went he noted that the girl alone was watching him; she was facing
him, while the others had turned their backs upon the house. She had
abandoned her dance and was standing very still, obviously interested
in the rough-clad, booted figure which had seemed so abruptly to
materialize from the forest land.

Ben Gaynor had seen him through a window and met him at the door. Their
hands met in the way of old friendship, gripping hard. Further, Ben beat
the dust out of his shoulders with a hard-falling open palm as he led
the way inside.

"My wife has been saying for years that you're a myth," said Gaynor, the
gleam in his eyes as youthful as it had ever been; "that you are no more
flesh and blood than the unicorn or the dodo bird. To-day I'll show her.
They were up half the night dancing and fussing around; she will be down
in two shakes, though."

"In the meantime we can talk," said King. "I've got something to tell
you, Ben."

Gaynor led the way through a room where were piano and victrola and from
the floor of which the rugs were still rolled; through a dining-room and
into what was at once a small library and Gaynor's study; King noted
that even a telephone had found its way hither. A chair pulled forward,
a box of cigars offered, and the two friends took stock in each other's
eyes of what the last year had done for each.

"You look more fit than ever, Mark--and younger."

King wanted to say the same thing of his friend, but the words did not
come. Gaynor was by far the older man, King's senior by a score of
years, and obviously had begun to feel the burden of the latter greying
days. Or of cares flocking along with them; they generally come
together. His were seriously accepted responsibilities, where Mark
gathered unto himself fresh hopes and eager joys; the responsibilities
which come in the wake of wife and daughter; a home to be maintained in
the city,