“I’d like to first-rate, but could you take me home first?  I have to let mother know where I am after school.”

“All right.”  And away they flew.  But Richard turned off the avenue three blocks below the corner upon which stood Ted’s home and ran up the street behind it.  “Run in the back way, will you, Ted?” he requested.  “I want to do a bit of work on the car while you’re in.”

So while Ted dashed up through the garden to the back of the house Richard got out and unscrewed a nut or two, which he screwed again into place without having accomplished anything visible to the eye, and was replacing his wrench when the boy returned.

“This is jolly,” Ted declared.  “I’ll bet Rob envies me.  This is her Wednesday off from teaching, and she was just going for a walk.  She wanted me to go with her, but of course she let me go with you instead.  I—­I suppose I could ride on the running board and let you take her if you want to,” he proposed with some reluctance.

“I’d like nothing better, but she wouldn’t go.”

“Maybe not.  Perhaps Mr. Westcott is coming for her.  They walk a lot together.”

“I thought Mr. Westcott practised law with consuming zeal.”

“With what?  Anyhow, he’s here a lot this spring.  About every Wednesday, I think.  I say, this is a bully car!  If I were Rob I’d a lot rather ride with you than go walking with old Westcott—­especially when it’s so warm.”

“I’m afraid,” said Richard soberly, “that walking in the woods in May has its advantages over bowling along the main highway in any kind of a car.”

Nevertheless he managed to make the drive a fascinating experience to Ted and a diverting one to himself.  And on the way home they stopped at the West Wood marshes to gather a great bunch of trilliums as big as Ted’s head.

“I’ll take ’em to Rob,” said her younger brother.  “She likes ’em better than any spring flower.”

“Take my bunch to Mrs. Stephen Gray then.  And be sure you don’t get them mixed.”

“What if I did?  They’re exactly the same size.”  Ted held up the two nosegays side by side as the car sped on toward home.

“I know, but it’s of the greatest importance that you keep them straight.  That left-hand one is yours; be sure and remember that.”

Ted looked piercingly at his friend, but Richard’s face was perfectly grave.

“Must be you don’t like Rob, if you’re so afraid your flowers will get to her,” he reflected.  “Or else you think so much of Rosy you can’t bear to let anybody else have the flowers you picked for her.  I’ll have to tell Steve that.”

“Do, by all means.  Mere words could never express my admiration for Mrs. Stephen.”

“She is pretty nice,” agreed Ted.  “I like her myself.  But she isn’t in it with Rob.  Why, Rosy’s afraid of lots of things, regularly afraid, you know, so Steve has to laugh her out of them.  But Rob—­she isn’t afraid of a thing in the world.”