n was that he would remain at the apartment with her if
she would give up the expedition, a suggestion that was promptly vetoed
by Aunt Flo. Eleanor was angry enough to cry as she flung on her wraps in
the little silk-hung guest-room. Men were so selfish, she savagely told
herself; if either Quin or Harold had had a particle of consideration for
her they would not have spoiled her last day at home.

On the way out to the club she sat between them, miserably indifferent to
the glory of the spring day and refusing to contribute more than an
occasional monosyllable to the conversation, which needed all the
encouragement it could get to keep going.

"Shall I see you again before you go?" Harold asked coldly, upon leaving
the car.

She wanted very much to say no, and to say it in a way that would punish
him; but, in view of the important matter pending, she was forced to
swallow her pride and compromise.

"I can see you to-night at the Newsons', unless you prefer spending your
evening here at the club."

"You know perfectly well what I prefer," he said with a meaning look; and
then, without glancing at Quin, across whose knees he had clasped
Eleanor's hand, he bade his host and hostess an apologetic good-by and
mounted the club-house steps.

"What _made_ you come?" Eleanor demanded fiercely of Quin, under cover of
the starting motor.

"I had to," Quin whispered back apologetically. "We got to sell 'em the
farm."

"What farm? Papa Claude's? Whom are you going to sell it to?"

Quin lifted a warning finger and nodded significantly at the back of Mr.
Ranny's unsuspecting head.

"Uncle Ranny?" Eleanor's lips formed the words incredulously. Then the
mere suggestion of outwitting her grandmother and saving Papa Claude by
such a master stroke of diplomacy struck her so humorously that she broke
into laughter, in which Quin joined.

"You two are very lively all of a sudden," Mrs. Ranny said over her
shoulder. "What is the joke?"

"Miss Eleanor and I have gone into the real estate business. Do you want
to buy a farm?"

"We always want to buy a farm. We look at every one we hear is for sale.
But they all cost too much."

"This one won't. It's a bargain-counter farm. A house and fifteen acres.
You can get it for six thousand dollars if you'll buy it to-day."

"All right; we'll take it," cried Mr. Ranny gaily. "Lead us to it."

The quest for the farm became so absorbing that the wild flowers were
forgotten. The often