“No, no!” she persisted.  “Newspapers are sometimes mistaken, aren’t they?” Laughing a little, she swept across the bulbous face beside her a swift regard that was like a search-light.  “How do you know, Mr. Flitcroft,” she went on very rapidly, raising her voice,—­“how do you know that Mr. Louden is familiar with this place?  The newspapers may have been falsely informed; you must admit that?  Then how do you know?  Have you ever met any one who has seen him there?”

“I’ve seen him there myself!” The words skipped out of Norbert’s mouth like so many little devils, the instant he opened it.  She had spoken so quickly and with such vehemence, looking him full in the eye, that he had forgotten everything in the world except making the point to which her insistence had led him.

Mamie looked horrified; there was a sound of smothered laughter, and Norbert, overwhelmed by the treachery of his own mouth, sat gasping.

“It can’t be such a terrific place, then, after all,” said Ariel, gently, and turning to Eugene, “Have you ever been there, Mr. Bantry?” she asked.

He changed color, but answered with enough glibness:  “No.”

Several of the young men rose; the wretched Flitcroft, however, evading Mamie’s eye—­in which there was a distinct hint,—­sat where he was until all of them, except Eugene, had taken a reluctant departure, one group after another, leaving in the order of their arrival.

The rosy pigment which had colored the trees faded; the gold-dust of the western distance danced itself pale and departed; dusk stalked into the town from the east; and still the watcher upon the steps and the warden of the gate (he of the lilac-bushes and the Bible) held their places and waited —­waited, alas! in vain. . . .  Ah!  Joe, is this the mettle of your daring?  Did you not say you would “try”?  Was your courage so frail a vessel that it could not carry you even to the gate yonder?  Surely you knew that if you had striven so far, there you would have been met!  Perhaps you foresaw that not one, but two, would meet you at the gate, both the warden and the watcher.  What of that?  What of that, O faint heart?  What was there to fear?  Listen!  The gate clicks.  Ah, have you come at last?

Ariel started to her feet, but the bent figure, coming up the walk in the darkness, was that of Eskew Arp.  He bowed gloomily to Mamie, and in response to her inquiry if he wished to see her father, answered no; he had come to talk with the granddaughter of his old friend Roger Tabor.

“Mr. Arp!” called Ariel.  “I am so very glad!” She ran down to him and gave him her hand.  “We’ll sit here on the bench, sha’n’t we?”