ion was
of her most feminine softness that was not in the least weak.

"Thank you," he answered. "I should have liked above all things to be
your guest. But it happens that I have brought my mechanician with me
and that I cannot desert him at the hotel. It does not matter at all
about relative social position; we are down here together. Moreover, I
have a ninety Mercury racing machine to look after, and I should be a
most unrestful visitor, up at dawn and out until dark."

"If that's all," decided Mr. Rose, "this is a seven-passenger car and an
architect said my house had ninety-five rooms. There's standing room in
the garage, I guess, for a car or two. Corrie, turn loose your horn."

Corrie promptly put his finger on the button of the electric signal, and
a raucous wail shattered the sunset hush.

"That's your man, looking this way? I like your sticking to him, Gerard.
Here he comes. We're all fixed, then; get in."

Gerard got in, beside Flavia, who laughingly drew her velvet skirts to
give him place.

"I think this bears a perilous resemblance to a kidnapping," she
doubted. "Is it quite safe, I wonder? Shall you summon rescue when we
reach a populated place?"

"If kidnapping means being taken against one's will, I haven't any
case," he returned as seriously. "I don't believe I could be dislodged
from here, now, if you tried."

"I had not contemplated the attempt--yet."

"Please do not! I look like a tramp, I know, but I will be exceedingly
good."

"Not immoderately good; we are a frivolous family," she deprecated.

They looked at each other, and their eyes laughed together.

Radiant, Corrie was already behind the steering-wheel, an impatient hand
poised to release the brake.

"Beside me, Rupert," he blithely invited, when the mechanician came up.

Rupert looked at Gerard, received his gesture of corroboration, and
lifting his cap to Flavia, took the designated seat without comment.

"Don't you care where you're going?" presently demanded Corrie, moving
up a speed. He respected Allan Gerard's little mechanician almost as
much as he did Allan Gerard, knowing his reputation in racing circles;
the glance he gave to accompany the query was an invitation to
friendship.

Rupert braced one small tan shoe against the floor, as the car wrenched
itself out of a tenacious sand rut.

"I ain't worrying," he kindly assured. "Any place that ain't New York is
off the map, anyhow."

"I thought you belonged out we