astonishes you, eh? Well, it's the truth, as I shall proceed to make
clear. There's a Mr. Fred Elkin, for instance--"

Doris uttered a little laugh of dismay. Winter's emphatic words had
astounded her, but the horse-dealer's name acted as comic relief.

"I can't bear the man," she protested.

"I have no doubt. But you ought to know that he is loudly proclaiming his
determination to marry you before the year is out."

The girl's face reddened again, and her eyes sparkled.

"I wouldn't marry him if he were a peer of the realm," she said
indignantly.

"Quite so. But he is an avowed suitor. Now don't be vexed. Has he never
declared his intentions to _you_?"

"He would never dare. I sing and act a little, at village concerts and
dramatic performances, and he has annoyed me at times by an officious
pretense that he was deputed by my father to see me home. I came here
quite a little girl, so people learnt to use my Christian name. I don't
object to it at all. But I simply hate hearing it on Mr. Elkin's lips."

"Exit Fred!" said Winter solemnly. "Next!"

Doris, after a period of calm, was now profoundly uncomfortable. This
kind of prying was the last thing she had expected. She had come prepared
to defend Grant, but, beyond one exceedingly personal reference, the