Marcia quickly. "The insinuation in your words more than offsets the previous compliment."
"I will give you another to make amends," responded Gordon, decisively. "You are the most charming girl I have ever met."
Marcia laughed softly, a merry little musical laugh which sent a thrill of ecstasy through Gordon Sloan's whole body,
"That's two," she murmured, confidingly. "Charming, and girl. For a woman to be called a girl is the sweetest of all pleasures. You have said that for which I can find no adequate words of thanks."
"Then I hope that it would not be overstepping the bounds of privilege for me to ask you a favor," said he.
"No," was the quick reply, "but it would rather detract from the value of the compliment." There was a roguish twinkle in Marcia Loring's eyes as she spoke.
"That settles it then!" he exclaimed. "I will certainly ask nothing."
"Your tone proves that you meant it," said she. "Therefore, in this instance, the rule will not apply."
He smiled, not a little bald, artificial, conventional thing, but a smile which made known to Marcia Loring his true feelings, as plainly as words could have done.
"I'm not selling lots," he said, deliberately, "nor canvassing patent medicines. The fact is, I've lost my way and have been walking around helplessly for hours in search of the road."
"That's odd," she murmured.
"What is?" he asked.
"Simply that that is the one favor which I cannot grant. In truth, I know no more in what direction the road lies than do you."
Gordon laughed. "Reminds me of Robinson Crusoe," said he.
"I refuse to be Friday," she declared, smiling.
His brow wrinkled as though in deep thought.
"Are you in pain?" she queried, roguishly.
"No," he grinned, "I was just wondering what we could do."
"Oh, it isn't so terrible," she affirmed. "When Stanley was in the African Jungle, he lived on roots for weeks at a time."
They looked into each other's eves and laughed like two children.
"I don't object to smoking weeds," said Gordon, in a serious tone, "'but I positively refuse to eat them."
"Well, then let's try to find the road," she suggested.
He helped her to her feet and they started off together. For an hour they roamed about, laughing and chatting merrily. First one chose a path and then the other, but none of them seemed to lead anywhere,
"What are we going to do?" she asked, in apparent anxiety, as the trail they were traversing ended in a fallen log.
"Don't know," he replied, slowly. "It seems as though we've walked a couple of thousand miles. It's a wonder we didn't notice Chicago as we passed by. Shouldn't be surprised if this forest connected with the Amazon Jungle."
Twilight was beginning to fall before they again discovered the main road. They had been together for several hours, long enough in fact to build up a rather pleasing acquaintance. At the foot of the road, Marcia Loring stopped and held out her hand.
"Won't you let me walk home with you?" he pleaded.
"No," she replied, sweetly, "but if you care to, you may call at my home to-morrow afternoon, I live at '"The Oaks," Beechwood." As he
