He gently swung her down, alighted and faced his grandfather. He had the
stalwart frame of Thelismer Thornton, and with it the poise of youth,
clean-limbed, bronzed, and erect. He flashed a pair of indignant brown
eyes at the old man. The Duke recognized the Thornton challenge to
battle in the sparkle of those eyes.

"Let's talk this over by ourselves, Harlan," he advised. "Send the girl
along about her business. She has messed things between us badly enough
as it is."

"Have you been talking to this poor little girl as she tells me you have
talked?" demanded young Thornton, narrowing his eyes.

"That isn't the tone to use to me, boy," warned the Duke. There had been
appeal in his face and his voice at the beginning. But this disloyalty
in the presence of the girl pricked him. She was still in the hook of
Harlan's arm, and from that vantage-point flung a glance of childishly
ingenuous triumph at him. "Not that tone from grandson to grandfather."

"It's man to man just now, sir. You know how I feel toward this little
friend of mine. If you have abused our friendship here at our home,
you'll apologize, grandfather or no grandfather--and that's the first
disrespectful word I ever gave you, sir. But this is a case where I have
the right to speak."

The Duke stiffened and his face was gray.

"I talked to her the way Land-pirate Kavanagh's daughter ought to be
talked to when she comes here mocking me. Now, Harlan, if you want this
in the open instead of in private, where it ought to be, I'll give it to