them away when the run is over.

"I hardly think I shall have any business," thought Cora,
"although I would just love to wait on somebody."

The rumble of an approaching automobile caught her ear.

"There!" she thought; "the driver of that car may want a sip of
Russian tea - I am glad it is not Turkish - that the girls serve
here."

The car was almost up to the sycamore tree, just at the side of
the Grotto.

Yes, the driver was stopping.

Cora rocked nervously in the wicker chair.

Who would it be? The girls should not have gone so far away -

A young man alighted from the runabout. He stepped briskly up to
the porch.

It was Rob Roland.

"Well!" he exclaimed, plainly as surprised to see Cora as she was
to see him. "If this isn't luck! Miss Kimball!"

Quick and keen as was his glance, making sure that Cora was alone,
her own sharp wits were able to follow his.