"I'm sorry you don't think I'm polite. I—I'm not used to talking to women. They're too fussy about trifles. What does it matter—"

   "I don't call throwing a female visitor over a wall a trifle," she broke in. "And it isn't quite hospitable. Now is it?"

   Jerry rubbed his head and regarded her seriously.

   "Now that you mention it, I don't suppose it is. But nobody asked you. You just came. Didn't you see the trespass signs?"

   "Oh, yes, they're all about," she said carelessly, as she picked up her tin specimen-box and turned away. "I didn't mean to stay. I followed a butterfly. He came in the iron railings, where the stream goes through the wall. I crawled under where the iron is bent. If you're afraid of women you'd better have it fixed."

   "Afraid!" It was one word that Jerry detested. "Afraid! That's funny. Do you think I'm afraid of

    you

   ?"

   "Yes," she replied, eyeing him critically. "I rather think you are."

   "Well, I—I'm not. It would take more than a woman to make

    me

   afraid."

   Something in the turn of the phrase and tone of voice made her turn and examine him with a new interest.

   "You're a queer boy," she said.

   "How—queer?" he muttered.

   "You look and act as though you'd never seen a girl before."

   If he had known women better he wouldn't have believed that she meant what she said. As it was, her wizardry astounded him.

   "How can you tell that?"

   She was now regarding him wide-eyed in amazement.

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