yelps of ecstasy, then tore ahead, mad with the delight of stretching
cramped muscles amid the long rank grass and shrubbery of the roadside.

The girl watched him doubtfully; when he disappeared far away up the
road she turned the blue inquiry of her eyes on Siward.

"He'll be back," said the young fellow, laughing; and presently the dog
reappeared on a tearing gallop, white flag tossing, glorious in his new
liberty, enchanted with the confidence this tall young man had reposed
in him--this adorable young man, this wonderful friend who had suddenly
appeared to release him from an undignified and abominable situation in
a crate.

"A good dog," said Siward; and the girl looked around at him, partly
because his voice was pleasant, partly because a vague memory was
beginning to stir within her, coupling something unpleasant with the
name of Siward.

She had been conscious of it when he first named himself, but, absorbed
in the overwhelming importance of her telegram, had left the analysis of
the matter for the future.

She thought again of her telegram, theorised a little, came to no
conclusion except to let the matter rest for the present, and mentally
turned to the next and far less important problem--the question of this
rather attractive young man at her side, and why the name of Siward
should be linked in her mind with anything disagreeable.

Tentatively following the elusive mental dews that might awaken
something definite concerning her hazy impression of the man beside her,