woman it is! Well, we've both common sense enough not to make fools of ourselves,—but oh, Dork, I do want you so! And if it were not for that foolish, ridiculous feud, we could be so happy!"

"It isn't exactly the feud,—I mean, of course it is that, but it's back of that,—it's the determined, never-give-up natures of the two women. I don't know which is more obstinate, mother or Miss Prall, but I know,—oh, Ricky, I know neither of them will ever surrender!"

"Of course they won't,—I know that, too. So, must we give up?"

"What choice have we? What alternative?"

"None." Bates' face was blankly hopeless. "But, Dork, dear, I can't live without you! Can't you look ahead to—to something?"

"Don't see anything to look ahead to. We might say we'll wait for each other,—I'm willing,—and something tells me you are! But,—that's an unsatisfactory arrangement——"

"It's all of that! Oh, hang it all, Dork, I'll go into some respectable business and earn a living. I'll give up my plans and——"

"If you do that, you may as well go in for Buns."

"Buns! I thought you scorned the idea!"

"Principally because I want you to be an inventor. But if you give up your life work,—oh, Rick, what could you do?"

"Nothing much at first. I'd have to take a clerk-ship or something and work up."

"I'm willing to share poverty with you,—in theory,—but you don't realize what the reality would mean to us. Not only because we're both accustomed to having everything we want, but more especially because in these days it's too dangerous. Suppose we lived on the tiniest possible income, and then you fell ill,—or I did,—or you lost your position,—or anything that interrupted our livelihood,—then, we'd have to go back to mother or to your aunt,—and—dost like the picture?"

"I dost not! It's out of the question. I love you too much, and too truly to take such desperate chances. I think, after all, Dork, the Buns are our one best bet!"

"Binny's Buns! 'Get a Bun!' Oh, Rikki, couldn't hold up my head!"

"I know it,—you little inborn aristocrat! And I feel the same way about it. Well, we've got to go home and face the music, I suppose."

"Yes, and we've got to go now. I'll get more and worse scolding for every minute I stay here."

"Also, if Eliza tells your mother, she'll be sending Kate for you."

"Yes, or coming herself. Come along, let's start."

The walk home was saddened by the thought that it was the last. Able to face the situation, both knew there was no hope that they should be allowed to continue their acquaintance, and knew that now it was discovered, they would very soon be as widely separated as the efforts of their elders could arrange.

Their pace slowed down as they neared The Campanile.

"Dear old place," said Dorcas, as the house came into their ken.

"Dear old nothing," returned Bates. "I think it's an eyesore, don't you? That bunch of Mexican onyx ought to be taken away to make kings' sarcophagi!"

"What a thought! Yes, it's hideous,—but I didn't mean its appearance. Its dear to me because we've lived here together, and I've a premonition that before long widely separated roofs will cover our heads."

"I'll conquer somehow!" Bates declared. "I haven't made many protestations, but I tell you, Dork, I'm coming out on top of this heap!"

"What are you going to do? Something desperate?"

"Maybe so,—maybe only something queer. But get you, I shall and I will! You're intended for my mate by an Omniscient Fate, and I'm going to find some way to help said Fate along. She seems to be sidetracked for the moment."

"I wish I had more faith in your Fate helping. Oh, don't look like that! I've faith enough in you,—but helping Fate is a tricky game."

"All right, I'm willing to play a tricky game, then!"

"You are, son! Against whom?"

And the pair entering the wide doorway, met Sir Herbert Binney coming out.

"Oh, hello, Uncle," cried Bates, grasping the situation with both hands. "Let me present you to Miss Everett; Dorcas, this is my uncle."

"How do you do, Uncle Bunny?" said Dorcas, quite unwitting that, in her surprised embarrassment, she had used the very word she had feared she would utter!

And an unfortunate mistake it proved. The smiling face of the Englishman grew red and wrathful, assuming, as he did, and not without cause, that the young woman intended to guy him.

"Daughter of your own mother, hey?" he said to her. "Ready with a sharp tongue for any occasion!"

Apology was useless, all that quick-witted Dorcas could think of was to carry it off as a jest.

"No, sir," she said, with an adorable glance of coquetry at the angry face, "but I have an unbreakable habit of using nicknames,—and as I've heard of you from Ricky, and I almost feel as if I knew you,—I, why, I just naturally called you Bunny for a pet name."

"Oho, you did! Well, I can't believe that. I think you're making fun of my trade! And that's the one thing I won't stand! Perhaps when your precious Ricky depends on those same buns for his daily food, you won't feel so scornful of them!"

"I never dreamed you were ashamed of them, sir," and Dorcas gave up the idea of peacemaking and became irritating.

"Nor am I!" he blazed. "You are an impertinent chit, and I bid you good-day!"

"Now you have done it!" said Bates.

CHAPTER III

The Scrawled Message

But, as it turned out, Dorcas hadn't "done it" at all. Bates on reaching his aunt's apartment found no one at home. But very soon Sir Herbert Binney appeared.

"Look here, Richard," he began, "I've taken a fancy to that little girl of yours——"

"She isn't mine."

"You'd like her to be?"

"Very much; in conditions that would please us both."

"Meaning Bunless conditions. I can't offer you those, but I do say now, and, for the last time, if you will take hold of my Bun proposition, I'll give you any salary you want, any interest in the business you ask, and make you my sole heir. I've already done the last, but unless you fall in with my plans now, I'm going to make another will and your name will be among the missing."

"But, Uncle Herbert——"

"I've no time for discussion, my boy; I've to dress for dinner,—I'm going out,—but this thing must be settled now, as far as you're concerned. You've had time enough to think it over, you've had time to discuss it with that pretty little girl of yours,—my, but her eyes flashed as she called me Uncle Bunny! It was a slip,—I saw that, and I pretended to be annoyed, but I liked her all the better for her sauciness. Well, Richard,—yes or no?"

"Can't you give me another twenty-four hours?"

"Not twenty-four minutes! You've hemmed and hawed over this thing as long as I'll stand it! No. You know all the details, all the advantages that I offer you. You know I mean what I say and I'll stand by every word. I'm going to meet the head of a big American concern to-night, and if you turn me down, I shall probably make a deal with him. I'd rather keep my business and my fortune in the family, but if you say no, out you go! So, as a countryman of yours expressed it to-day, you can put up or shut up!"

"All right, sir,—I'll shut up!" and Richard Bates turned on his heel, while Sir Herbert Binney went out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him.

Almost immediately Miss Gurney came in.

"My stars, Ricky!" she exclaimed, "I met Sir Binney Bun in the hall and he looked as if somebody had broken his heart! Has his pet chorus girl given him the mitten?"

"No; I gave it to him. He wants me to sell his precious pies over a counter,—and I can't see myself doing it."

"I should say not! It's a mystery to me how the aristocracy of England go into trade, and if it's a big enough deal, they think it's all right. If it's tea or