anding very close to her. She had
never been introduced to him, but that is not absolutely insisted on in
moving picture circles, particularly when a company is on "location."

"Is Miss Brown in?" repeated Whitlow.

"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Alice.

"Ah, well, I'll wait and find out. I'll sit down here by you and wait,"
went on the young man, drawing a chair so close to that of Alice that it
touched. "Fine day, isn't it? I say! you did that bit of acting very
cleverly to-day."

"Did I?" and Alice went on reading.

"Yes. I had a little bit myself. I carried a message from the field
headquarters to the rear--after more ammunition, you know. Did you
notice me riding?"

"I did not."

"Well, I saw you, all right. If Miss Brown isn't home, do you want to go
over to the village with me?"

"I do not!" and Alice was very emphatic.

"Then for a row on the lake?"

"No!"

"You look as though you would enjoy canoeing," went on the persistent
Whitlow. "You have a very strong little hand--very pretty!" and he
boldly reached up and removed Alice's fingers from the edge of the
magazine. "A very pretty little hand--yes!" and he sighed foolishly.

"How dare you!" cried Alice, indignantly. "If you don't----"

"See how you like that pretty bit of grass down there!" exclaimed a
sharp voice behind Alice, and the next moment Mr. Maurice Whitlow,
eye-glasses, lavender tie, socks and all, went sailing over the porch
railing, to land in a sprawling heap on the sod below.

CHAPTER VII

ESTELLE'S LEAP

"Oh!" murmured Alice, shrinking down in her chair. "Oh--my!"

She gave a hasty glance over her shoulder, to behold Paul Ardite
standing back of her chair, an angry look on his face. Then Alice looked
at the sprawling form of the extra player. He was getting up with a
dazed expression on his countenance.

"What--what does this mean?" he gasped, striving to make his tones
indignant. But it is hard for dignity to assert itself when one is on
one's hands and knees in the grass, conscious that there is a big grass
stain on one's white cuff, and with one's clothing generally
disarranged. "What does this mean? I demand an explanation," came from
Mr. Maurice Whitlow.

"You know well enough what it means!" snapped Paul. "If you don't, why,
come back here and try it over again and I'll give you another
demonstration!"

"Oh, don't, Paul--please!" pleaded Alice in a low voice.

"There's no danger. He won't come," was