“We’ve just been taking a walk,” answered Dorian.  “Will it be alright if Carlia and I go to the new moving picture theatre in town some Saturday?”

Neither parent made any objection.  They were, in fact, glad to have this neighbor boy show some interest in their daughter.

“Your mother was at meeting,” said Mrs. Duke; “and she was asking about you.”

“Yes; I’ve neglected her all afternoon; so I must be off.  Good night folks.”

Carlia went with him to the gate, slipping her arm into his and snuggling closely as if to get the protection of good comradship.  The movement was not lost on Dorian, but he lingered only for a moment.

“Goodnight, Carlia; remember, some Saturday.”

“I’ll not forget.  Goodnight” she looked furtively up and down the road, then sped back into the house.

Dorian walked on in the darkening evening.  A block or so down the road he came on to an automobile.  No one in Greenstreet owned one of these machines as yet, and there were but few in the city.  As Dorian approached, he saw a young man working with the machinery under the lifted hood.

“Hello,” greeted Dorian, “what’s the trouble?”

“Damned if I know.  Been stalled here for an hour.”  The speaker straightened from his work.  His hands were grimy, and the sweat was running down his red and angry face.  He held tightly the stump of a cigarette between his lips.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” said Dorian, “but I don’t know the first thing about an automobile.”

“Well, I thought I knew a lot, but this gets me.”  He swore again, as if to impress Dorian with the true condition of his feelings.  Then he went at the machinery again with pliers and wrenches, after which he vigorously turned the crank.  The engine started with a wheeze and then a roar.  The driver leaped into the car and brought the racing engine to a smoother running.  “The cursed thing” he remarked, “why couldn’t it have done that an hour ago.  O, say, excuse me, have you just been at the house up the road?”

“The Duke house? yes.”

“Is the old man—­is Mr. Duke at home?”

“Yes; he’s at home.”

“Thank you.”  The car moved slowly up the road until it reached the Duke gate where it stopped; but only for a moment, for it turned and sped with increasing hurry along the road leading to the city.

Dorian stood and watched it until its red light disappeared.  He wondered why the stranger wanted to know why Mr. Duke was at home, then on learning that he was, why he turned about as if he had no business with him.

Later, Dorian learned the reason.

CHAPTER NINE.

Dorian was twenty-one years old, and his mother had planned a little party in honor of the event.  The invited guests were Uncle Zed, Bishop Johnson and wife, the teacher of the district school, and Carlia Duke.  These arrived during the dusk of the evening, all but Carlia.  They lingered on the cool lawn under the colored glow of the Chinese lanterns.