"There's nothing to tell!" declared Nance, with the blush coming back.
She was finding it distinctly agreeable to be out alone like this with a
grandly sophisticated young gentleman who wore a light linen suit with
shoes to match, and whose sole interest seemed to center upon her and
her affairs.

"But you know there is!" he persisted. "What made you give us the shake
that night of the ball?"

Nance refused to say; so he changed the subject.

"How's Miss Birdie?"

"Give it up. Haven't seen her since you have."

"What? Didn't you go on with the show that next morning?"

"No."

"And you've been in town all summer?"

She nodded, and her companion gave a low, incredulous whistle.

"Well, I'll be darned!" he said. "And old Mac sending letters and
telegrams every few minutes and actually following the 'Follies'
to Boston!"

"Birdie was with 'em up to two months ago," said Nance.

"Mac wasn't after Birdie!" said Monte. "He hasn't had but one idea in his