Mr. Minot glanced at his watch.
"It is now twenty minutes of twelve," he said. "My advice to you is to order lunch on the train."
"It was so foolish of me," cried the girl. "I ran up to Jacksonville in a friend's motor to do a little shopping. I should have known better. I'm always doing things like this."
And she looked at Dick Minot accusingly, as though it were he who always put her up to them.
"I'm awfully sorry, really," Minot said. He felt quite uncomfortable about it.
"And can't you suggest anything?"—pleadingly, almost tearfully.
"Not at this moment. I'll try, though. Look!" He pointed out the window. "That family of razor-backs has caught up with us four times already."
"What abominable service," the girl cried. "But—aren't they cunning? The little ones, I mean."
And she stood looking out with a wonderful tenderness in her eyes, which, considering the
