But Ted backed away.  The code was still on.  A girl of his own kind he would have kissed in a moment at such provocation, or none.  But he had an odd feeling of needing to protect this girl from herself as well as from himself.

“You had more sense than I did last night.  Let’s follow your lead instead of mine,” he said.  “It’s better.”

“But Ted, you will come to-morrow?” she pleaded.  “You won’t forget or go back on your promise?”

“Of course, I’ll come,” promised Ted again readily.

Five minutes later they parted, he to take his car, and she to stroll in the opposite direction toward her friend Linda’s house.

“He is a dear,” she thought.  “I’m glad he wouldn’t kiss me, so there,” she said aloud to a dusty daisy that peered up at her rather mockingly from the gutter.

An automobile horn honked behind her.  She stepped aside, but the car stopped.

“Well, here is luck.  Where are you going, my pretty maid?” called a gay, bold voice.

She turned.  The speaker was one Willis Hubbard, an automobile agent by profession, lady’s man and general Lothario by avocation.  His handsome dark face stood out clearly in the dusk.  She could see the avid shine in his eyes.  She hated him all of a sudden, though hitherto she had secretly rather admired him, though she had always steadily refused his invitations.

For Madeline was wary.  She knew how other girls had gone out with Willis in his smart car and come back to give rather sketchy accounts of the evening’s pleasure jaunt.  Her friend Linda had tried it once and remarked later that Willis was some speed and that Madeline had the right hunch to keep away from him.

But it happened that Madeline Taylor was the particular peach that Willis Hubbard hankered after.  He didn’t like them too easy, ready to drop from the bough at the first touch.  All the same, he meant to have his way in the end with Madeline.  He had an excellent opinion of his powers as a conquering male.  He had, alas, plenty of data to warrant it in his relations with the fair and sometimes weak sex.

“What’s your hurry, dearie?” he asked now.  “Come on for a spin.  It’s the pink of the evening.”

But she thanked him stiffly and refused, remembering Ted Holiday’s honest blue eyes.

“What are you so almighty prunes and prisms for, all of a sudden?  It’s the wrong game to play with a man, I can tell you, if you want to have a good time in the world.  I say, Maidie, be a good girl and come out with me to-morrow night.  We’ll have dinner somewhere and dance and make a night of it.  Say yes, you beauty.  A girl like you oughtn’t to stay cooped up at home forever.  It’s against nature.”

But again Madeline refused and moved away with dignity.

“Your grandfather will never know.  You can plan to stay with Linda afterward.  I’ll meet you by the sycamore tree just beyond the Bates’ place at eight sharp—­give you the best time you ever had in your life.  Believe me, I’m some little spender when I get to going.”