Jerry stood a second in the aisle, speechless, and stared at the Cricket.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded finally.

"I'm going north with you. I told you I would."

"Get up and get your clothes on this minute," he ordered peremptorily.

"Not on your life, Jerry dear. I always lie abed late," she retorted, closing the curtains.

His first impulse was to jerk them apart, and set the rebellious imp upon her feet, but second thought convinced him that public opinion would be against that move. He hurried off to send another wire to Wally, phrased thus:

"Just discovered Isabelle on train. What shall I do with her?"

Then he made an agitated toilet and went back to his seat. The car was in that unspeakable state of vile air and half-dressed strangers which makes Pullman cars such a horror in the early morning. Jerry decided he could not bear it.

"Isabelle," he said, addressing the curtains, "get up and come to breakfast."

"I don't care for any breakfast, thank you, Jerry," she answered sweetly.

He went to the diner with a sigh of relief. He tried to contemplate his situation calmly. The Bryce child had certainly scored. No amount of protesting would ever convince Althea Morton of his innocence, because she had warned him against Isabelle's wiles. He could count on Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon's championing. Certainly he had disappointed her, but she could not believe him such a cad as to have run off with the Bryce girl. He did not worry about the distracted parents. He expected them to be prepared for anything from their undisciplined offspring. He pictured them, sighing with relief, that she was off their hands and upon his!

The next thing was what to do about the predicament? Would he better take her off at Jacksonville and wait for her father to claim her, or should he continue his journey with her to New York? What could he do with her then? He decided to leave it to the Bryces; they would have to arrange the details. His belief was that Wally would follow to Jacksonville, on receipt of the second telegram, so that would mean only the delay of a day for Jerry.

On his return to the other car, Isabelle's berth was still occupied. He read his paper, spent an hour in the smoking-room. Still she did not appear. All the other berths were made up, and the usual curiosity centred in the one late riser. Jerry decided not to be present at her entrance so he betook himself again to the smoker and stayed until noon.

When he returned this time, she was up and properly ensconced among her belongings. She smiled exuberantly, as Jerry came toward her, the focus of all eyes.

"Good-morning, Jerry dear. Isn't this jolly?"

"You ought to be spanked!"

"Oh, come off! Don't use that stage-father tone. I hoped you would be glad to see your little Cricket, Jerry."

"Well, I'm not."

"You may as well cheer up, because, glad or mad, you've got to see me."

"What on earth made you do such a crazy thing?"

"I couldn't stand it to be left alone with that dull bunch. I told you I'd come north with you, and I always do what I say I will."

"It must be comfortable to be so unhampered by consideration of others!"

"What others?"

"Your parents."

"Oh—them!"

"And me."

She considered that.

"You mean you don't want me."

"Certainly I don't want you. You have put me in a very uncomfortable position."

"I wanted to."

"What have I done to you, to make you displease me this way?"

"You've done enough," sullenly.

"What, for instance?"

"You've put a crimp in everything for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I thought we were good chums."

"I don't want to be your chum."

He looked at her, puzzled.

"Look here, kid——"

"Don't you call me kid," she blazed.

"Let's talk this over calmly, just as if I were your big brother. Maybe there is something I don't understand about it. In the first place, how did you manage it? How did you get on the train without being seen?"

"I came aboard as soon as the car was opened, and went to bed. I tried to get your upper, but you had bought the whole section. I wanted to pop my head down and say 'boo' at you this morning. But I must have gone to sleep because I didn't know when we started."

"Did you have some money?"

"I touched Wally for some yesterday."

"Is your ticket for New York?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"That depends on you."

"On me?"

"Yes, of course. Don't you see that it does? I left a note for mother, saying I had run away with you, so I think you'll have to marry me, Jerry."

He laughed outright, but one look at her face silenced him.

"I beg your pardon, but that strikes me as a little high-handed, your running off with me, like this, and then demanding that I marry you. Modern, but extreme, I should say. How old are you?"

"I am sixteen and a half," with dignity.

"Well, even at that advanced age we do make mistakes, and this is one of yours, Isabelle. I expect a wire from your father saying that he will follow us to Jacksonville, and take charge of you."

"I'm not going back on that damned yacht!"

"My child, the decision as to your destination lies with your respected father. In the meantime, you must be starving, so we'll go to lunch."

Just then the porter came through with Wally's wire. It read: "Sorry. She's a devil. Take her to New York. Wiring head mistress of school to meet her there. Wally." The extreme concern in Jerry's face prompted Isabelle to read over his shoulder. Then she laughed gaily and defiantly. Jerry controlled himself, put the telegram into his pocket, and rose.

"Will you come to luncheon with me, Miss Bryce?"

She glanced at him speculatively.

"Delighted, Mr. Paxton."

For the rest of the journey, Jerry treated his companion with the most careful consideration. She tried in every way to break down this wall of formality. She sparkled at him, she teased him, she raged at him, she wept, but in vain.

"Jerry, please don't treat me like a lady," she begged.

"You've done nothing to deserve such treatment."

"You used to be so nice to me on the yacht."

"Because you behaved yourself like a kid, and knew your place."

"Did you like my behaviour on the yacht?" in surprise.

"No, but it was an improvement on this dime-novel, moving-picture heroine you're trying out now."

"You're a fine movie villain, Jerry. You look as if you would pass me the poisoned bean."

Silence.

"Jerry, if you don't like any of my behaviours, why were you nice to me?"

"Because I thought you were a lonely little girl with no one to play with."

"I am that now, Jerry."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

He laughed shortly.

"You could play with me, very nicely, with no interruptions from the Wax Doll, if you'd only thaw. Couldn't you thaw a tiny bit, Jerry?"

He rose and departed to the smoking-room. When an hour had passed and he did not come back, she marched down the car and into the smoking compartment.

"Jerry, I'm going to sit in here with you men. I'm lonesome. I've always wanted to sit in here; it looks so cozy and smells so smelly."

The men laughed and rose to make room for her, but Jerry took her by the arm and piloted her swiftly forth.

"You'll have to smell it from afar," he said, and felt the grin of the men behind him. He was thoroughly irritated now.

"Execute me, Jerry, but don't look like that."

"Haven't you any instincts of breeding at all?" he inquired. "No nice girl does that sort of cheap, fresh thing. What do you suppose those men think of you? They do not consider you the least cute or clever, if that is what you intended them to think. Their main idea is that, if I am your guardian, I ought to lock you up until you learn some manners."

"I wish you were my guardian, Jerry."

Jerry was actually worn out with annoyance, with weariness, with fury at Wally Bryce for not taking her off his hands. He looked toward his escape with anticipation, and he devoutly hoped that his farewell with Isabelle would be forever. They were due in New York at ten o'clock at night. As they sat, ready to disembark, Isabelle leaned toward him.

"Jerry, do you hate me?"

"Oh, no," casually.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

"You are quite forgiven."

"Have I spoiled the trip for you?"

"Oh, no. You have been most sprightly."

"Oh, Jerry!" she groaned, and relapsed into large-eyed, tragic silence.

In the station, on arrival, the most careful search failed to find the head mistress. Isabelle was perfectly unconcerned about it, but Jerry was far from it.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"Come along," he replied ungraciously, bundling her into a cab.

Arrived at the studio building, he hurried to Bobs's door and rapped. No answer. He tried again and again. He went to the Chatfields'; there was nobody there. Isabelle yawned. Jerry unlocked his own door and lit the light.

"This is your place, Jerry?" she cried, and began a swift tour of inspection.

"You can turn in here for the night, and in the morning I will take you to the school."

"Where will you sleep?"

"At a club."

"And leave me in this spooky place alone? I won't stay."

"Don't you see that I cannot take you around town at this hour of the night looking for lodgings?"

"I'll go in the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch. I won't stay here alone."

He went to the telephone and called a number. He sent a request to Jane Judd to come to the 'phone, on important business. Then he waited a long time.

"Who is this Jane Judd?" demanded Isabelle.

"She is somebody to stay the night with you."

"I don't want her. I hate her name."

Finally he heard Jane's voice.

"Miss Judd, this is Jerome Paxton. I hope you had not gone to bed. Oh, that is good. I am just back from Florida and I have to ask a very great favour of you. If I come to your house in ten minutes, will you see me, so that I may explain? Thanks."

He hung up the receiver.

"Now, you get to bed. I'll be back here in twenty minutes with Miss Judd, who will spend the night with you."

"Can't you stay, too, Jerry?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

He found Jane waiting in the lower hall for him. She was as calm and impersonal as if this were a usual occasion. He explained the situation.

"It's an outrage to ask you to do it, but will you come?"

"Certainly. Wait until I get some things, and a hat."

Presently they were on the way in a taxi. He inquired the news of the quarter. Bobs and the Chatfields had gone to Philadelphia for a month, possibly longer.

"I hope this girl will not prove a nuisance," he said, as they came to their destination.

"How old is she?"

"Sixteen."

They found her curled up on a couch, half dead for sleep.

"I thought you'd never come, Jerry," she cried.

"This is Miss Judd, who is good enough to stay with you. This is Isabelle Bryce, Miss Judd."

Jane nodded, and the girl stared rudely.

"I'll fix the bed for you. You must be very tired," said Jane kindly.

"You're all right now. Get a good sleep," said Jerry, picking up his bag to go.

"Oh, Jerry, don't leave me," cried Isabelle, clinging to him. "I don't want to stay with this strange woman. I want to go with you always, Jerry, because I love you so. Won't you take me, Jerry?"

"Don't be a little goose, Isabelle."

"Please don't hate me, Jerry," she sobbed.

"I don't hate you, when you're sensible."

"Won't you call me Cr-cricket, just once, Jerry?"

"If you'll be a good girl, and go to bed."

"Kiss me good-night."

"I'll do nothing of the kind."

He loosed her clinging arms determinedly. He had a miserable feeling of Jane's amusement over this absurd scene, which she was overhearing. When he released her, Isabelle sank in a sobbing heap upon the couch.

"Miss Judd," called Jerry.

She came to the door, and only for an instant was there a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"Come and take charge of this crazy kid," he said desperately. "I'll come over early in the morning."

He seized his bag and hurried to the door.

"Oh, Jerry!" wailed the heroine.

But the hero, red, furious, embarrassed, plunged down the stairs, three at a time, and pined for the sight of Wally, so that he might adequately record his feelings upon some member of the Bryce family!