ing I don't understand about it. In the first place, how
did you manage it? How did you get on the train without being seen?"

"I came aboard as soon as the car was opened, and went to bed. I tried
to get your upper, but you had bought the whole section. I wanted to pop
my head down and say 'boo' at you this morning. But I must have gone to
sleep because I didn't know when we started."

"Did you have some money?"

"I touched Wally for some yesterday."

"Is your ticket for New York?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"That depends on you."

"On me?"

"Yes, of course. Don't you see that it does? I left a note for mother,
saying I had run away with you, so I think you'll have to marry me,
Jerry."

He laughed outright, but one look at her face silenced him.

"I beg your pardon, but that strikes me as a little high-handed, your
running off with me, like this, and then demanding that I marry you.
Modern, but extreme, I should say. How old are you?"

"I am sixteen and a half," with dignity.

"Well, even at that advanced age we do make mistakes, and this is one of
yours, Isabelle. I expect a wire from your father saying that he will
follow us to Jacksonville, and take charge of you."

"I'm not going back on that damned yacht!"

"My child, the decision as to your destination lies with your respected
father. In the meantime, you must be starving, so we'll go to lunch."

Just then the porter came through with Wally's wire. It read: "Sorry.
She's a devil. Take her to New York. Wiring head mistress of school to
meet her there. Wally." The extreme concern in Jerry's face prompted
Isabelle to read over his shoulder. Then she laughed gaily and
defiantly. Jerry controlled himself, put the telegram into his pocket,
and rose.

"Will you come to luncheon with me, Miss Bryce?"

She glanced at him speculatively.

"Delighted, Mr. Paxton."

For the rest of the journey, Jerry treated his companion with the most
careful consideration. She tried in every way to break down this wall of
formality. She sparkled at him, she teased him, she raged at him, she
wept, but in vain.

"Jerry, _please_ don't treat me like a lady," she begged.

"You've done nothing to deserve such treatment."

"You used to be so nice to me on the yacht."

"Because you behaved yourself like a kid, and knew your place."

"Did you like my behaviour on the yacht?" in surprise.

"No, but it was an improvement on this dime-novel, moving-pic