"

She contemplated the situation for a moment, looking away across fields
and green pastures. Then she glanced down at Dandy. Her name in full
appeared staring at her from the nickel plate of the dog's collar. She
smiled.

"I'll tell you what you can do," she said brightly. "I'd be so grateful!
My little dog has had an accident, you see, and if you would be so
kind--I hate to ask so much of a stranger--it seems a great deal--but if
you would leave him at the veterinary's, Dr. Jenkins, just behind the
Court House! He's so heavy! I'd be awfully grateful."

"No, you don't," replied Mr. Sewall. "No more of those scarf games on
me! Sorry. But I'm not so easy as all that!"

The girl shifted her dog to her other arm.

"He weighs fifteen pounds," she remarked. And then abruptly for no
apparent reason Mr. Sewall inquired:

"Is it yours? Your own? The dog, I mean?"

"My own?" she repeated. "Why do you ask?" Innocence was stamped upon
her. For nothing in the world would she have glanced down upon the
collar.

"Oh, nothing--nice little rat, that's all. And I'm game. Stuff him in,
if you want. I'll deliver him to your vet."

"You will? Really? Why, how kind you are! I do appreciate it. You mean
it?"

"Of course I do. Stuff him in. Delighted to be of any little service.
Come on, Towzer. Make it clear to your little pet, pray, before starting
that I'm no abductor. Good-by--and say," he added, as the car began to
purr, "Say, please remember you aren't the only clever little guy in the
world, Miss Who-ever-you-are!"

"Why, what do you mean?" She looked abused.

"That's all right. Good-by." And off he sped down the road.

Miss "Who-ever-you-are" walked the three miles home slowly, smiling
almost all the way. When she arrived, there was a huge box of flowers
waiting on the hall-table directed to:

"Miss Ruth Chenery Vars
The Homestead, Hilton, Mass.
License No. 668."

Inside were two dozen American Beauty roses. Tied to the stem of one was
an envelope, and inside the envelope was a card which bore the name of
Breckenridge Sewall.

* * * * *

"So _that's_ who he is!" Miss Vars said out loud.

I saw a great deal of the young millionaire during the remainder of the
summer. Hardly a day passed but that I heard the approaching purr of his
car. And never a week but that flowers and candy, and more flowers and
candy, filled the rejoicing Homestead.

I was a canny young person. I allow