turned back with Mary Selden.

"How fortunate!" he said.

"Isn't it?" said Miss Selden. "Odd, too, considering that I take this
road home every evening after school is out. And when we reflect that you
chanced this way last Thursday at half-past four--and again on Friday--it
amounts to a coincidence."

"Direction of the subconscious mind," explained Francis Charles,
unabashed. "Profound meditation--thirst for knowledge. What more natural
than that my heedless foot should stray, instinctively as it were, toward
the--the--"

"--old oaken schoolhouse that stood in a swamp. It is a shame, of the
burning variety, that a State as wealthy as New York doesn't and won't
provide country schools with playgrounds big enough for anything but
tiddledy-winks!" declared Miss Selden. Her fine firm lip curled. Then she
turned her clear gray eyes upon Mr. Boland. "Excuse me for interrupting
you, please."

"Don't mention it! People always have to interrupt me when they
want to say anything. And now may I put a question or two?
About--geography--history--that sort of thing?"

The eyes further considered Mr. Boland.

"You are not very complimentary to Mr. Thompson's house party, I think,"
said Mary in a cool, little, matter-of-fact voice.