much either way, as long as I have independence of action. I'll go
with you, Dorothy; but if it turns out, as I fear, that we are
expected to act our parts in a Harley romance, that romance will
receive a shock from which it will never recover."

"Why do you object so to Mr. Harley, anyhow? I thought you liked his
books," said Mrs. Willard.

"I do; some of them," Marguerite answered; "and I like him; but he
does not understand me, and until he does he shall not put me in his
stories. I'll rout him at every point, until he--"

Marguerite paused. Her face flushed. Tears came into her eyes.

"Until he what, dearest?" asked Mrs. Willard, sympathetically.

"I don't know," said Marguerite, with a quiver in her voice, as she
rose and left the room.

"I fancy we'd better go at once, Bob," said Mrs. Willard to her
husband, later on. "Marguerite is quite upset by the experiences of
the day, and New York is fearfully hot."

"I agree with you," returned Willard. "Jerrold sent word this
afternoon that the boat will be ready Friday, instead of Thursday of
next week; so if you'll pack up to-morrow we can board her Friday,
and go up the Sound by water instead of by rail. It will be
pleasanter for all hands."

Which was just what Harley wanted. The Willards were of course not