The minutes ticked into an hour and still no one passed. The sun was already behind the house and a little breeze was rustling the tall grass and bushes below us. I shall never smell syringas again without thinking of those hours on that tin roof. For it was nearly two full hours before we saw anyone!

Then at last we heard, not the hum of a motor for which we had been listening, but the slow rattle of wheels. It was a farm wagon, coming from the direction of Old Beecham, and it was drawn by a team of horses and driven by a boy in overalls and a blue shirt. His head was bare and we could hear him singing lustily to himself as he drove.

At our first frantic shout, however, he turned his head and gazed up at the house. We both stood up and began to wave wildly.

“Whoa-o.” We could hear the boy’s voice as he brought the horses to a stop. The sound brought cheer to our hearts. Another minute and he was vaulting over the stone wall and coming toward us. His brown face only a shade lighter than the shock of hair above it was expressionless. “Anything the matter?” he drawled as he came within earshot.

“Well, you don’t think we’re sitting on this roof for pleasure, do you?” Eve giggled.

“I haven’t thought anything about it,” retorted the boy. “But from the yell you let out just now, I judged somebody was being murdered.”

“We had to make you hear,” Eve explained sweetly. “We’ve been sitting here for two hours!”

“Why don’t you try sitting somewhere else then if you’re tired of it?”

“Better view of the scenery from here,” she told him. “By the way, you don’t happen to have a ladder in that wagon of yours, do you?”

“What do you think I am—the hook and ladder company?”

“Well, I just thought I’d ask.”

I felt that we weren’t getting anywhere. “Look here Mr—er——”

“Doe,” the boy supplied glibly. “John Doe.”

Eve giggled.

“Well, Mr. Doe,” I continued, “to put the case briefly, what we want most just now is to get down from this roof.”

“Why don’t you go back the way you came then?” he inquired. “You didn’t drop down from the skies, I suppose!”

“It’s just awfully clever of you to think of that,” Eve put in. “The only trouble with your plan is that the doors of the house happen to be locked on the outside. You see, the real estate agent locked us in.”

“Real estate agent?” the boy repeated. At last there was real astonishment in his tone. “I never heard that this house was for sale.”

“Never mind that now,” Eve urged impatiently. “The point is that we’re locked in or out—whichever way you look at it—and, to be perfectly frank with you, there are other places where we’d rather spend the night!”

“So if you could borrow a ladder from somewhere,” I put in meekly.

“Or get the key from a gentleman by the name of Bangs down at Trap’s place at the Corners,” Eve added, “we’d be just eternally grateful.”

The boy did not reply immediately. He seemed to be considering the situation with an eye on the drain pipe. “Oh, well,” he said at last with a shrug, “I suppose I’ll have to go get a ladder.”

“The days of chivalry are past!” Eve sighed as we watched our unwilling rescuer-to-be climb back into his wagon, turn and drive up the road in the direction from which he had come.

“What can you expect from overalls,” I said. “Be thankful if he remembers to come back at all.”

But I did him an injustice, it appeared, for less than ten minutes later the wagon reappeared, this time loaded with a tall ladder.

The boy made no remark as he came dragging the ladder across the yard and proceeded to prop it firmly against the edge of the roof. “There,” he said finally when he was satisfied that it was steady.

We descended one at a time. The boy watched us coldly. His opinion of girls who got themselves locked in empty houses and marooned on tin roofs was apparent. “I don’t know how we can ever thank you!” Eve exclaimed as she felt that her feet were on firm earth again.

“It was perfectly swell of you to take all this trouble,” I added appreciatively.

“A good deed every day, that’s my motto,” drawled the boy.

“Just a splendid young knight errant,” I added. For just the barest second I thought the corners of his rather uncompromising mouth twitched. But he quickly controlled them, and lifting the ladder down, began to drag it back across the grass.

“Oh, let me help!” Eve ran after him and seized the other end. Together they carried it as far as the wall. “I’ll just leave it here and pick it up in the morning when I go to work,” the boy remarked. Then with a nod in our direction, he again vaulted over the wall. We watched him climb into his seat and gather up the reins. “Well, so long,” he said.

Eve stood beside the wagon and gazed rapturously up at him. “Good-bye,” she said. “I suppose we shall never see you again but I shall always treasure your memory.”

“You talk a lot of nonsense, don’t you?” he remarked.

“Nonsense? Me? By the way, you aren’t going far with that wagon, I suppose?”

“I’m going home,” he stated stolidly. “And you’d better do the same if you’ve got any.”

“That’s just the point,” Eve exclaimed brightly. “I was wondering if by any chance—that is, we’re not so very heavy—you see, we’re late for supper as it is.”

“Well, get in,” he said ungraciously.

We needed no urging, which was fortunate. With more speed than grace we climbed into the rear of the wagon and in another minute were rattling down the road toward Beecham Corners.

Conversation was difficult. Only as we approached the crossroads I managed to make myself heard, “Oh, my suitcase!” I cried. “I can’t go home without my suitcase.”

The horses were pulled up sharply. “What’s the matter now?” inquired the boy.

I left Eve to make explanations. I was out of the wagon in one leap and flying up the road toward Trap’s. I found the case in the front hall just as Mr. Bangs had said. Nobody was about so I just took it and went out. Panting, I returned to the wagon.

“Mr. Doe’s going almost to Fishers Haven; isn’t that luck?” Eve said as she reached down to give me a hand. “He says we can ride as far as he goes. Or at least,” she added, twinkling, “he didn’t say we couldn’t.”

It was dusk when we saw the white houses of Fishers Haven ahead of us. At a spreading farmhouse on the outskirts, our equipage came to a stop. “This is where I live,” the boy said.

We climbed stiffly to the ground. “I suppose,” said Eve, smiling up at the boy, “that you have no idea who we are?”

It was now our turn to be surprised. “Sure. You’re the girls who are staying at Mrs. Poole’s.”

“But how in the world did you know?” she demanded. “We only came last night.”

“Fellow who lives next door is a kind of friend of mine,” he vouchsafed shortly. “Tells me all his troubles.”

“But,” giggled Eve, “we’re not one of his troubles, are we? At least not yet!”

The boy made no reply to this but gathered up his reins preparatory to turning into the drive.

I remembered suddenly the dark figure I had seen creeping along the hedge last night. “What kind of troubles has your friend?” I called hastily.

“Oh, cat troubles mostly.” The words drifted back as the wagon rattled away.

“Did he say ‘cat’?” I asked.

“Sounded like it,” said Eve.