"Do you know, Mr. Harkless, you and I haven't 'met,' have we? Didn't we
forget to be presented to each other?"

"I beg your pardon. Miss Sherwood. In the perturbation of comedy I
forgot."

"It was melodrama, wasn't it?" she said. He laughed, but she shook her
head.

"Comedy," he answered, "except your part of it, which you shouldn't have
done. It was not arranged in honor of 'visiting ladies.' But you mustn't
think me a comedian. Truly, I didn't plan it. My friend from Six-Cross-
Roads must be given the credit of devising the scene-though you divined
it!"

"It was a little too picturesque, I think. I know about Six-Cross-Roads.
Please tell me what you mean to do."

"Nothing. What should I?"

"You mean that you will keep on letting them shoot at you, until they--
until you--" She struck the bench angrily with her hand.

"There's no summer theatre in Six-Cross-Roads; there's not even a church.
Why shouldn't they?" he asked gravely. "During the long and tedious
evenings it cheers the poor Cross-Reader's soul to drop over here and take
a shot at me. It whiles away dull care for him, and he has the additional
exercise of running all the way home."

"Ah!" she cried indignantly, "they told me you always answered like this!"