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His face, as he spoke, was stern and dark. She was sure that he must have great latent strength of character.

Abruptly she changed the subject recalling the elusive mowing-machine and the approach of the Brookes’ dinner-hour. Willy was sure that Mr. Rivers would want her to see the mower, it was–was–so typically American; and if he would take her directly and swiftly home, wouldn’t she go on another search to-morrow?

“If you win,” said she; she felt that she must hesitate at nothing which would give him that cup. “Another thing, don’t you give another thought to me; you think every minute of your game. If you distract your mind it may get onto your game.”

“I won’t let it hurt my game, don’t you worry,” returned Willy confidently.

Mrs. Brooke had none of the difficulty which she had anticipated in persuading Willy to dine with them; and she wondered what suffering friends of hers who had had his reluctant presence at social functions, meant by their stories. To be sure, he didn’t talk much, but he was a most intelligent listener; and he was visibly having a good time.

The next day it was bruited about (no one but Jabez Rivers, who had walked the links with a reporter, could have quite told how) that young Butler was playing a wonderful game. A dozen of the golf lovers deserted the great man and his only less great opponent and saw Willy limp over eleven links, as he beat his man with leisurely ease.

That afternoon, while again searching for the mowing-machine which that unsuspected but efficient emissary of the Blind God, Jabez Rivers, had advised them to be sure to find–after with his own eyes he had seen it trundling into the garage–Willy submitted his plan of rescue. They were rolling noislessly along a wide avenue, above which the great elm boughs made a vaulted arch like the groined vault of a cathedral. Through the arches filtered the sunset rose. Willy suddenly stopped the machine. He did not look at her. He clutched the handle of the lever very hard; and she was positive he was pale, a pallor which threw his freckles into high relief. But she was thinking of anything else than freckles.

“I’ve thought it all out,” said Willy very firmly, “and I wouldn’t bother you the least little bit, not the least. And we think alike about so many things. I believe I could make it all right with your people. I can do anything, when you are backing me. It would ease my mind awfully; I should be sure to win the cup. I know that would please my father, and he’d help us, maybe. Besides, I’ve a fortune of my own; I’d settle it all on you–“

“What do you mean?” cried Lady Jean.

“You wouldn’t need to marry anybody else if you married me,” said Willy.

” My word! ” gasped Lady Jean. “But you told me you didn’t want to marry anybody.”

“I shouldn’t mind you so much,” said he.

She was thoughtful, her own mind a chaos to herself. She stole a furtive glance at his miserable face; something tender and compassionate and strange made her lips quiver, but she set them closely.

“You would be making an awful sacrifice for me?”

He did not deny it.

“It would be an awful sacrifice for me, too.”

“I know,” he acquiesced sadly.

“Still–I suppose you ought to have your mind settled before to-morrow or it will get on your game.”

“Yes, that’s just it! I’d be awfully grateful–“

Without any warning she began to laugh. “I think you are the funniest boy in the world! I don’t want to marry anybody. I want to live with daddy and take care of him and be like Aunt Jean, but if I have to marry anybody, I’d rather marry you. Shall we let it go at that for the present?”