which might have been modeled for a type of appealing innocence.

"You're Mr. Banneker, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I'm Esther Forbes, and I think I've heard a great deal about you."

"It doesn't seem probable," he replied gravely.

"From a cousin of mine," pursued the girl. "She was Io Welland. Haven't
I?"

A shock went through Banneker at the mention of the name. But he
steadied himself to say: "I don't think so."

Herein he was speaking by the letter. Knowing Io Welland as he had, he
deemed it very improbable that she had even so much as mentioned him to
any of her friends. In that measure, at least, he believed, she would
have respected the memory of the romance which she had so ruthlessly
blasted. This girl, with the daring and wistful eyes, was simply
fishing, so he guessed.

His guess was correct. Mendacity was not outside of Miss Forbes's easy
code when enlisted in a good cause, such as appeasing her own impish
curiosity. Never had Io so much as mentioned that quaint and lively
romance with which vague gossip had credited her, after her return from
the West; Esther Forbes had gathered it in, gossamer thread by gossamer
thread, and was now hoping to identify Banneker in its uncertain
pattern. Her little plan of startling him into some betrayal had proven