much time to do it before supper, any way.”

“By all means,” agreed Fessenden. “I’m very glad if I’ve been of service.” Mischief awoke in his glance. “I’ve had ample reward for anything I’ve been able to do.”

The blood crept into the girl’s cheeks, but she was not afraid to meet his eyes.

“Good-by,” he said with evident reluctance. “I hope your ankle will be well very soon.” The laughing imps in her eyes suddenly emboldened him. “May I come to-morrow evening to see how you’re getting on?”

“Of course—if you like. We’re through supper by half-past seven, and——”

“Supper?” he returned, and paused so pointedly that the girl laughed outright.

HE WAVED HIS HAT FROM THE GATE

“O-oh! Would you care to come to supper with us, really?”

“Don’t ask me unless you’re in earnest.”

“Will you come, then, at half-past six?”

“I’ll come. Thank you—immensely. Good-night. Good-night, Mrs. Landis.”

“Good-night, good-night, Mr. Puddin’ Tame,” called the girl as she hobbled up the steps, supported on the older woman’s arm.

He waved his hat from the gate, and the girl blew him a smiling kiss—to the very evident embarrassment of Aunty Landis.