good friends--that's why she calls him Frenny!"

"Ah--I see!" the doctor said mildly, as Peter's wild laugh burst
forth.

"But now," Alix pursued, "she's told him that as she cannot be
what he wishes, they had better not meet!"

"Poor Anne!" the old doctor commented.

"Poor nothing! She's having the time of her life," her cousin said
unfeelingly. "She told me to-day that she was afraid that she had
checked one of the most brilliant careers at the bar."

"I had no idea of all this!" the doctor confessed, amazed. "I've
seen the young man--noticed him about. Well--well--well! Anne,
too."

"You and me next, little sweetums," suggested Peter, dropping down
beside the doctor, who had seated himself, panting, upon a log.

Alix, the dog's silky head under her hand, was resting against the
prop formed by a great tree trunk behind her shoulders, and
looking down at the two men. She grinned.

"Nothingstirring, Puddeny-woodeny!" she answered, blandly.

The old man looked from Peter's smiling, indifferent face to his
daughter's unembarrassed smile; shook his head in puzzled fashion,
and returned to his pocket the big handkerchief with which he had