cloud of dust. Shades of the "Duchess" and Bertha M. Clay!
How does one greet a blond god in gray tweed on a country
road, when one has him!

The blond god solved the problem for me.

"Hi!" he called. I did not turn. There was a
moment's silence. Then there came a shrill, insistent
whistle, of the kind that is made by placing four fingers
between the teeth. It is a favorite with the gallery
gods. I would not have believed that gray tweed gods
stooped to it.

"Hi!" called the voice again, very near now.
"Lieber Gott! Never have I seen so proud a young woman!"

I whirled about to face Von Gerhard; a strangely
boyish and unprofessional looking Von Gerhard.

"Young man," I said severely, "have you been
a-follerin' of me?"

"For miles," groaned he, as we shook hands. You walk
like a grenadier. I am sent by the charming Norah to
tell you that you are to come home to mix the salad
dressing, for there is company for supper. I am the
company."

I was still a bit dazed. "But how did you know which
road to take? And when--"