and he did the palming act with the bill slicker than a faro dealer—and whispered to me to change a quarter for him."
"And did you?" asked the Flopper anxiously.
"Oh, wake up, Flopper!" grinned Madison then, suddenly: "Hullo! Who's that?"
Across the lawn, coming through the row of maples from the direction of the wagon track, appeared two figures.
"Dat's who," said the Flopper, after gazing an instant. "It's Helena an' Thornton."
"So it is," agreed Madison. "Get behind the trellis here then—it wouldn't do for him to see me out here at this time of night."
They rose noiselessly from the bench, and slipped quickly behind the trellis. Toward them, walking slowly came the two figures, Helena leaning on Thornton's arm. Thornton was talking, but in too low a tone to be overheard. Then a silence appeared to fall between the two, and it was not until they reached the porch, close to Madison and the Flopper, that either spoke again.
Then Thornton held out his hand.
"Good-night, Miss Vail—and good-by temporarily," he said. "I suppose I shall be gone four or five days; I'm going up on the morning train, you know. I wish you'd go as often as you can to see Naida in the car while I'm away—will you? Her condition worries me, though she insists that she is completely cured, and she will not listen to any advice. I have an idea that she has overtaxed herself—apart from her hip disease,
