out alone with a man after bedtime."

"A man, Aunt Liza! Oh, but a man! An artist isn't a man--at least, not
an ordinary man." There was a hint of earnestness in Columbine's tone,
notwithstanding its lightness.

But Mrs. Peck remained firm. "It wouldn't make it right, not if he was
an angel from heaven," she declared.

Columbine's gay laugh had in it that quality of youth that surmounts all
obstacles. "He's much safer than an angel," she protested, "because he
can't fly. Besides, the Spear Point Caves are all on this side of the
Point. You could watch us all the time if you'd a mind to."

But Mrs. Peck did not laugh. "I'd rather you didn't go, my dear," she
said. "So let that be the end of it, there's a good girl!"

"Oh, but I--" began Columbine, and broke off short. "Goodness, how you
made me jump!" she said instead.

Rufus, his burly form completely blocking the doorway, was standing half
in and half out of the garden, looking at her.

"Lawks!" said Mrs. Peck. "So you did me! Good evening, Rufus! Are you
wanting Adam?"

"Not specially," said Rufus. He entered, with massive, lounging
movements. "I suppose I can come in," he remarked.

"What a question!" ejaculated Mrs. Peck.