Bennington’s chaos had not yet crystallized to relevancy.

“Wh-where did you get it?” he stammered again.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” she demanded in very large capitals.

The young man regained control of his faculties with an effort.

“Yes, it is!” he rejoined sharply; and then, with the instinct that bids us appreciate the extent of our relief by passing an annoyance along, “Don’t you know it’s a penal offence to disturb claim stakes?”

He had suddenly discovered that he preferred to find claim stakes on claims.

The Vision’s eyes opened wider.

“It must be nice to know so much!” said she, in reverent admiration.

Bennington flushed.  As a de Laney, the girls he had known had always taken him seriously.  He disliked being made fun of.

“This is nonsense,” he objected, with some impatience.  “I must know where it came from.”

In the background of his consciousness still whirled the moil of his wonder and bewilderment.  He clung to the claim stake as a stable object.

The Vision looked straight at him without winking, and those wonderful eyes filled with tears.  Yet underneath their mist seemed to sparkle little points of light, as wavelets through a vapour which veils the surface of the sea.  Bennington became conscious-stricken because of the tears, and still he owned an uneasy suspicion that they were not real.

“I’m so sorry!” she said contritely, after a moment; “I thought I was helping you so much!  I found that stake just streaking it over the top of the hill.  It had got loose and was running away.”  The mist had cleared up very suddenly, and the light-tipped sparkles of fun were chasing each other rapidly, as though impelled by a lively breeze.  “I thought you’d be ever so grateful, and, instead of that, you scold me!  I don’t believe I like you a bit!”

She looked him over reflectively, as though making up her mind.

Bennington laughed outright, and scrambled to his feet.  “You are absolutely incorrigible!” he exclaimed, to cover his confusion at his change of face.

Her eyes fairly danced.

“Oh, what a lovely word!” she cried rapturously.  “What does it mean?  Something nice, or I’m sure you wouldn’t have said it about me. Would you?” The eyes suddenly became grave.  “Oh, please tell me!” she begged appealingly.

Bennington was thrown into confusion at this, for he did not know whether she was serious or not.  He could do nothing but stammer and get red, and think what a ridiculous ass he was making of himself.  He might have considered the help he was getting in that.

“Well, then, you needn’t,” she conceded, magnanimously, after a moment.  “Only, you ought not to say things about girls that you don’t dare tell them in plain language.  If you will say nice things about me, you might as well say them so I can understand them; only, I do think it’s a little early in our acquaintance.”