“Will I?  Miss Christie,” said Dick, choking between an intense gratification and a desire to keep back its vulgar exhibition, “I shall be proud!”

“When I say keep it a secret”—­she hesitated—­“I don’t mean that I object to your letting Mr. Kearney, if you happen to know where he is, understand that we are going back to Devil’s Ford.”

“Cert’nly—­nat’rally,” said Dick, waving his hand gracefully; “sorter drop him a line, saying that bizness of a social and delicate nature—­being the escort of Miss Christie and Jessie Carr to Devil’s Ford—­prevents my having the pleasure of calling.”

“That will do very well, Mr. Hall,” said Christie, faintly smiling through her moist eyelashes.  “Then will you go at once and secure tickets for to-night’s boat, and bring them here?  Jessie and I will arrange everything else.”

“Cert’nly,” said Dick impulsively, and preparing to take a graceful leave.

“We’ll be impatient until you return with the tickets,” said Christie graciously.

Dick shook hands gravely, got as far as the door, and paused.

“You think it better to take the tickets now?” he said dubiously.

“By all means,” said Christie impetuously.  “I’ve set my heart on going to-night—­and unless you secure berths early—­”

“In course—­in course,” interrupted Dick nervously.  “But—­”

“But what?” said Christie impatiently.

Dick hesitated, shut the door carefully, and, looking round the room, lightly shook out his handkerchief, apparently flicked away an embarrassing suggestion, and said, with a little laugh: 

“It’s ridiklous, perfectly ridiklous, Miss Christie; but not bein’ in the habit of carryin’ ready money, and havin’ omitted to cash a draft on Wells, Fargo & Co.—­”

“Of course,” said Christie rapidly.  “How forgetful I am!  Pray forgive me, Mr. Hall.  I didn’t think.  I’ll run up and get it from our host; he will be glad to be our banker.”

“One moment, Miss Christie,” said Dick lightly, as his thumb and finger relaxed in his waistcoat pocket over the only piece of money in the world that had remained to him after his extravagant purchase of Christie’s saffrona rose, “one moment:  in this yer monetary transaction, if you like, you are at liberty to use my name.”

CHAPTER VIII

As Christie and Jessie Carr looked from the windows of the coach, whose dust-clogged wheels were slowly dragging them, as if reluctant, nearer the last stage of their journey to Devil’s Ford, they were conscious of a change in the landscape, which they could not entirely charge upon their changed feelings.  The few bared open spaces on the upland, the long stretch of rocky ridge near the summit, so vivid and so velvety during their first journey, were now burnt and yellow; even the brief openings in the forest were seared as if by a hot iron in the scorching rays