class="c007">She glanced about, and then gave a wriggle so violent that she almost slipped from his arms.

“Put me down!”

“What’s the matter?”

“We’re nearer than I thought. There’s the big oak. The lane comes right up to the back door. The house is on the main road, you know. Put me down!”

“But why shouldn’t I carry you into the house?”

“Because—oh, because Aunty Landis would be terribly frightened! She’d think something dreadful had happened to me. Please put me down. I can limp along, if you’ll let me use your arm.”

He allowed her to slip slowly to the ground. “There you are, then; but be careful.”

A sigh of relief escaped her as she tried her weight gingerly on the injured foot.

“It’s ever so much better. I won’t even have to hop.” Her face was upturned earnestly. “Thank you very much, Mr. Puddin’ Tame. You’ve been very kind.”

“You’re very welcome,” he returned, and, seized by a sudden paternal tenderness, he stooped and kissed the red-lipped mouth.

She stepped back with a sharp “Oh!” mingled of anger and the pain of her twisted ankle. “Oh! Why did you do that? We were having such fun, and—and now you’ve spoiled the whole afternoon. What a—a perfectly silly thing to do!”

He quailed before the bayonets flashing in the blue eyes.

“I was carried away,” he said humbly.

“I hate you!”

“No, no. Don’t—please don’t do that. Of course I was wrong—unpardonably wrong, I suppose—but you looked so young, and—well, so adorable, that I—— Oh, please don’t hate me!”

His gloom was so profound that, in spite of herself, she felt her wrath begin to melt.

“If you’re sure you’re very sorry——”

“I’m in the dust,” he evaded.

“Then—all right.” She smiled a little, but with caution—he should not be allowed to think himself too easily restored to favor. “I frightened you, didn’t I? And you ought to have been frightened. But to show you I trust you now, I’ll use your arm as a crutch. Come on. Oh, what a delicious sight for poor Aunty Landis!”

Truly enough, the spectacle brought to her feet a motherly-looking woman who had been knitting on the porch of White Cottage.

“Good gracious, child! What’s the matter?” She fluttered down the steps to meet the bedraggled adventurers. “Have you hurt yourself, dearie? Oh, dear, dear! What is it? Have you broken your leg?”

“I’m all right, Aunty. Don’t worry. My ankle might be turned a little, that’s all. This gentleman has been very kind to me, and helped me home.”

The woman made Fessenden a spasmodic bow. “I’m sure we’re much obliged to you, sir. Is it your ankle, dearie? I told you not to go in wading. The idea of such a thing, and you a young lady!”

“Now, Aunty, please don’t scold me—not until my foot’s fixed, at any rate.”

Although the girl’s lips quivered warningly, Fessenden could have sworn her eyes laughed slyly. But the older woman’s vexation was effectually dissolved by the other’s pitiful tone.

“There, there! You poor silly baby! Come right in, and I’ll put your foot in hot water and mustard. That’ll take the soreness out.” She passed her arm lovingly about the girl’s slender shoulders and was leading her away without more ado. The girl hung back.

“Aunty, I haven’t thanked him—half.”

“I’m sure the gentleman’s been very good,” said Mrs. Landis, “but he knows your foot ought to be soaked in hot water just as soon as can be. There won’t be any too