landing-stage, looked at her wrist-watch. Cartwright imagined she did
not see him and studied her with some amusement. Barbara looked
impatient. People did not often keep her waiting, and she had not
inherited her mother's placidity. She had a touch of youthful beauty,
and although she was impulsive and rather raw, Cartwright thought her
charm would be marked when she met the proper people and, so to speak,
got toned down.

Cartwright meant her to meet the proper people, because he was fond of
Barbara. She had grace, and although her figure was slender and girlish,
she carried herself well. Her brown eyes were steady, her small mouth
was firm, and as a rule her color was delicate white and pink. Now it
was high, and Cartwright knew she was angry. She wore boating clothes
and had obviously meant to go on the lake. The trouble was, her
companion had not arrived.

"Hallo!" said Cartwright. "Are you waiting for somebody?"

Barbara advanced and sat down on a rocky ledge.

"No," she said, "I'm not waiting _now_."

Cartwright smiled. He knew Barbara's temper, and his line was to keep
her resentment warm.

"You mean, you have given him up and won't go if he does arrive? Well,
when a young man doesn't keep his appointment, it's the proper plan."

She blushed, but tried to smile. "I don't know if you're clever or not
just now, although you sometimes do see things the others miss. I really