"Oh, please excuse me for stopping you," she cried, eagerly, "but you know where I want to go, and I have forgotten the name of the hotel."
The young man brought his bicycle to a standstill; sprang to the ground, and snatched off his cap. He was evidently very much surprised, but too polite to show it.
"I beg your pardon," he said in a very pleasant voice; "can I be of any assistance to you?"
"Yes," said Marjorie, frankly. "I saw you in the hotel dining-room last night, and I heard my cousin say you lived there. I came out for a walk before breakfast, and—it's very stupid I suppose—but I can't find my way back to the entrance where I came in."
A look of comprehension came into the young man's pleasant face, and he regarded Marjorie with interest not unmixed with amusement.
"I understand," he said; "you are staying at the 'Plaza,' and want to go back there."
"Yes, that is the name," said Marjorie, looking much relieved; "will you please show me the way to the gate?"
"Certainly," said her new acquaintance, smiling, and he at once began to lead the way, pushing his bicycle along beside him.
"Oh, don't you want to get on your wheel again?" Marjorie inquired anxiously. "I can easily follow if you don't go too fast."
The young man protested that he had ridden quite long enough, and would be glad of a little walk.