th the joy of the victorious and Evelyn was about to
speak, when Phil called out suddenly:

"Jack Turnbull, by all that's lucky! What brought you here?" And he
fairly flung himself out of the stopping machine.

They had come upon the inn suddenly over the rise in the ground and
there, standing against the pillar and nonchalantly surveying the scenery
was--Lucile had to rub her eyes to be sure of unimpaired vision.

Then, the machine coming to a full stop, the two girls stepped out, while
Lucile followed more slowly in their wake, conscious suddenly of
dust-stained clothing and rumpled hair. "And I wanted to look my best,"
she wailed, in truly feminine despair.

She had not much time for lamentation, for, through the handshakings of
Phil and the ecstatic demonstrations of his cousin, Jack's handsome eyes
sought and found hers.

"It's a long way to come just to see you," he cried, gripping her hands
tightly. "But it's sure worth it," he added, boyishly.

Lucile never had longed so for a mirror. She knew her hair was all awry,
that her dress was wrinkled and covered with dust, and that her eyes must
look funny from crying over Jeanette, and----

"I'm very glad to--to see you," she stammered. "If you will--excuse me
just--a minute--I'll change this awful rig--and--and----" She flashed him
an uncertain little smile and was gone through the broad doorway, leaving
him to gaze after her, mystified and troubled.

"It's all right, Jack!" consoled Phil, with the superior knowledge of one
who has a sister toward one who hasn't, and therefore knoweth not the
ways of woman. "It's her clothes; but wait till she gets all dolled up;
there will be a change. To talk of something else, how did you happen to
strike the old inn?" and Jack, somewhat enlightened, entered upon the
subject with a will, while the two girls followed in the wake of the
deserter.

They found Lucile standing before the mirror, surveying herself
dejectedly.

"What did you want to run away for?" charged Jessie. "Jack felt hurt, I
know, even though Phil did try to explain."

"Just look at me," Lucile began, miserably.

"Well, look at you," repeated Evelyn. "What's the matter with you? Your
eyes aren't red any more--the wind took that away--and your hair always
looks better when it's rumpled----"

"And as for your dress," Jessie took it up, "do you think Jack would
notice what you had on? He wasn't looking at that----"

"Well, how did I know I was beauti