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Jeff came, swinging a hurricane lantern.

"Hullo, kid—did you think I was never coming?" His eye feil on the bag. "Lor! I forgot all about that. Who brought it?"

"Mrs. Peterson."

"You—don't—say! Well, I wouldn't have had her do that. Was she annoyed?"

"I don't think so," Hugh said. "She was jolly kind."

'Til eat humble-pie next time I see her. Come along; time you were in bed." He picked up the bag. "Like the show?"

"Like it! It was great!"

He chattered eagerly about it as they undressed. Jeff listened good-naturedly.

"Hope you watched all those points I told you about."

Hugh opened his mouth—and shut it again.

"I never thought about them—not once!"

Jeff grinned.

"Didn't expect you would—not your first night. Never mind—you'11 have plenty of chances. Jove, I'm glad to get to bed! Are you all right? Got enough blankets?"

"Yes. It's funny without sheets, though."

"I'd think it funny with 'em. Well, good night."

Hugh lay thinking. Suddenly he remembered something.

"Jeff."

«'M?"—sleepily.

"Who was that girl who rode first—on the white horse? Wasn't she lovely?"

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