The Fifth Wheel | Page 6

satisfying.
"Look here," softly exclaimed Breckenridge Sewall. "Say, who are you,
anyway?"
Of course I wasn't stupid enough to tell him, and when I saw that he
was on the verge of announcing his identity, I exclaimed:
"Oh, don't, please. I'd much rather not know."
"Oh, you don't know then?"

"Are you Mr. Jackson?" I essayed innocently.
"No, I'm not Buck Jackson, but he's a pal of mine. I'm----"
"Oh, please," I exclaimed again. "Don't spoil it!"
"Spoil it!" he repeated a little dazed. "Say, will you talk English?"
"I mean," I explained, carelessly tossing away now into the grass the
nasty little thing that was making my throat smart, "I mean, don't spoil
my adventure. Life has so few. To walk down a little path for the
purpose of looking at a view, and instead to run across a stranger who
may be anything from a bandit to an Italian Count is so--so romantic."
"Romantic!" he repeated. He wasn't a bit good at repartee. "Who are
you, anyway?"
"Why, I'm any one from a peasant to an heiress."
"You're a darned attractive girl, anyhow!" he ejaculated, and as lacking
in subtlety as this speech was, I prized it as sign of my adversary's
surrender.
Five minutes later Mr. Sewall suggested that we walk back together to
the people gathered on the lawn. But I had no intention of appearing in
public with a celebrated person like Breckenridge Sewall, without
having first been properly introduced. Besides, my over-eager
sister-in-law would be sure to pounce upon us. I remembered my scarf.
I had left it by my empty cup on the cedar table. It seemed quite natural
for me to suggest to this stranger that before rejoining the party I would
appreciate my wrap. It had grown a little chilly. He willingly went to
get it. When he returned he discovered that the owner of the bit of
lavender silk that he carried in his hand had mysteriously disappeared.
Thick, close-growing vines and bushes surrounded the bench, bound in
on both sides the shaded path. Through a network of thorns and tangled
branches, somehow the owner of that scarf had managed to break her
way. The very moment that Mr. Sewall stood blankly surveying the
empty bench, she, hidden by a row of young firs, was eagerly skirting

the west wall of her hostess's estate.
CHAPTER III
EPISODE OF A SMALL DOG
During the following week Miss Vars often caught a fleeting glimpse
of Mr. Sewall on his way in or out of town. She heard that he attended
a Country Club dance the following Saturday night, at which she
chanced not to be present. She was told he had actually partaken of
refreshment in the dining-room of the Country Club and had allowed
himself to be introduced to several of her friends.
It was very assuming of this modest young girl, was it not, to imagine
that Mr. Sewall's activities had anything to do with her? It was rather
audacious of her to don a smart lavender linen suit one afternoon and
stroll out toward the Country Club. Her little dog Dandy might just as
well have exercised in the opposite direction, and his mistress avoided
certain dangerous possibilities. But fate was on her side. She didn't
think so at first when, in the course of his constitutional, Dandy
suddenly bristled and growled at a terrier twice his weight and size, and
then with a pull and a dash fell to in a mighty encounter, rolling over
and over in the dirt and dust. Afterward, with the yelping terrier
disappearing down the road, Dandy held up a bleeding paw to his
mistress. She didn't have the heart to scold the triumphant little warrior.
Besides he was sadly injured. She tied her handkerchief about the paw,
gathered the dog up in her arms, turned her back on the Country Club a
quarter of a mile further on, and started home. It was just then that a
gray, low, deep-purring automobile appeared out of a cloud of dust in
the distance. As it approached it slowed down and came to a full stop
three feet in front of her. She looked up. The occupant of the car was
smiling broadly.
"Well!" he ejaculated. "At last! Where did you drop from?"
"How do you do," she replied loftily.
"Where did you drop from?" he repeated. "I've been hanging around for

a week, looking for you."
"For me?" She was surprised. "Why, what for?"
"Say," he broke out. "That was a mean trick you played. I was mad
clean through at first. What did you run off that way for? What was the
game?"
"Previous engagement," she replied primly.
"Previous engagement! Well, you haven't any previous engagement
now, have you? Because, if you have, get in, and