ind the
leaded windows. Those are Kathleen's where the dinky woodbine twineth.
Mine face the east, and yours are next. Come on out into the park----"

"Not much!" returned young Mallett. "I want a bath!"

"The park," interrupted Scott excitedly, "is the largest fenced
game-preserve in America! It's only ten minutes to the Sachem's Gate, if
we walk fast."

"I want a bath and fresh linen."

"Don't you care to see the trout? Don't you want to try to catch a
glimpse of a wild boar? I should think you'd be crazy to see----"

"I'm crazy about almost any old thing when I'm well scrubbed; otherwise,
I'm merely crazy. That was a wild trip up. I'm all over cinders."

A woman came quietly out onto the terrace, and Duane instantly divined
it, though his back was toward her and her skirts made no sound.

"Oh, is that you, Kathleen?" he cried, pivoting. "How d'ye do?" with a
vigorous handshake. "Every time I see you you're three times as pretty
as I thought you were when I last saw you."

"Neat but involved," said Kathleen Severn. "You have a streak of cinder
across that otherwise fascinating nose."

"I don't doubt it! I'm going. Where's Geraldine?"

"Having her hair done in your honour; return the compliment by washing
your face. There's a maid inside to show you."

"Show me how to wash my face!" exclaimed Duane, delighted. "This is
luxury----"

"I want him to see the Gray Water before it's too late, with the
sunlight on the trees and the big trout jumping," protested Scott.

"I'll do my own jumping if you'll furnish the tub," observed Duane.
"Where's that agreeable maid who washes your guests' faces?"

Kathleen nodded an amused dismissal to them. Arm in arm they entered the
house, which was built out of squared blocks of field stone. Scott
motioned the servants aside and did the piloting himself up a broad
stone stairs, east along a wide sunny corridor full of nooks and angles
and antique sofas and potted flowers.

"Not that way," he said; "Dysart is in there taking a nap. Turn to the
left."

"Dysart?" repeated Duane. "I didn't know there was to be anybody else
here."

"I asked Jack Dysart because he's a good rod. Kathleen raised the deuce
about it when I told her, but it was too late. Anyway, I didn't know she
had no use for him. He's certainly clever at dry-fly casting. He uses
pneumatic bodies, not cork or paraffine."

"Is his wife here?" asked Duane carelessly.

"Yes. Geraldine asked her as soon as she h