Doctor Holiday went over and laid a hand on each of the lad's hunched
shoulders.

"Look at me, Ted," he commanded gently.

The old habit of obedience strong in spite of his twenty years, Ted
raised his eyes, but dropped them again on the instant as if they were
lead weighted.

"That is the first time you ever lied to me, I think, lad," said the
doctor quietly.

A quiver passed over the boy's face, but his lips set tighter than ever
and he pulled away from his uncle's hands and turned, staring out of the
window at a rather dusty and bedraggled looking hydrangea on the lawn.

"I wonder if it was necessary," the quiet voice continued. "I haven't the
slightest wish to be hard on you. I just want to understand. You know
that, son, don't you?"

The boy's head went up at that. His gaze deserted the hydrangea, for the
first time that day, met his uncle's, squarely if somewhat miserably.

"It isn't that, Uncle Phil. You have every right to come down on me. I
hadn't any business to have the car out at all, much less take fool
chances with it. But honestly I have told you all--all I can tell. I did
lie to you just now. I wasn't alone. There was a--a girl with me."

Ted's face was hot again as he made the confession.