approaching while Raymond was receiving his conge, she thrilled
again, simultaneously wondering whether she was, after all, but a
heartless coquette.

Jim had just been dancing with the visiting girl, so she asked: "Is
Miss Slade a good dancer?"

"Oh, fair. Not in it with you though."

Missy thrilled again, and felt wicked again--alas, how pleasant is
wickedness! "She's awfully pretty," vouchsafed Missy.

"Oh, I guess so"--indifferently.

Yet another thrill.

They took refreshments together, Jim going to get her a second glass
of lemonade and waiting upon her with devotion. Then came the time
to go home. Missy could not hold back a certain sense of triumph as,
after thanking Raymond for a glorious time, she started off, under
his inquisitive eye, arm in arm with Jim.

That unwonted arm-in-arm business confused Missy a good deal. She
had an idea it was the proper thing when one is being escorted home,
and had put her arm in his as a matter of course, but before they
had reached the gate she was acutely conscious of the touch of her
arm on his. To make matters worse, a curious wave of embarrassment
was creeping over her; she couldn't think of anything to say, and
they had walked nearly a block down moon-flooded Silver Street, with
no sound but Jim's creaking shoes, before she got out: "How do you