happy face. Come right along and chum in."

Eunice offered her hand with a welcoming smile.

"Just the boy I was looking for," she said, we've the jolliest
game on for the afternoon. Haven't we, San?"

"Fool trick, if you ask me! Howsumever, everything goes.
Interested in thought-transference bunk, Elliott?"

"I know what you're getting at." Mason Elliott nodded his head
understandingly. "Hendricks put me wise. So, I says to myself,
s'posin' I hop along and listen in. Yes, I am interested,
sufficiently so not to mind your jeers about bunk and that."

"Oh, do you believe in it, Mason?" said Eunice, animatedly; "for
this is a faked affair--or, rather, the explanation of one. It's
the Hanlon boy, you know--"

"Yes; I know. But what's the racket with you two turtle-doves?
I come in, and find Eunice wearing the pet expression of a
tragedy queen and Sanford, here, doing the irate husband. Going
into the movies?"

"Yes, that's it," and Eunice smiled bravely, although her lips
still quivered from her recent turbulent quarrel, and a light,
jaunty air was forced to conceal her lingering nervousness.

"Irate husband is good!" laughed Embury, "considering we are yet
honeymooners."