"It's awfully good to see you again, Alice," he said, with a sincerity
which could not be doubted; "and to meet you, too, Mrs. Gorham, not
forgetting Lady Pat." And then, as if in explanation, "You see, as Alice
says, she and I were pals when we were youngsters in Pittsburgh, and I
can't realize that now she's grown up into such a--"

"Do you remember the games of baseball we used to play together?" Alice
interrupted.

"Indeed I do," he responded. "She could throw a ball overhand just like
a boy," Allen continued, turning to Mrs. Gorham lest he seem to
discriminate in his attentions.

"She can't do it now, but I can," Patricia remarked, with an air of
superiority, subsiding as Alice glanced meaningly at her.

"And once you thrashed Jim Thatcher for calling me a tomboy. Oh, I
looked upon you as a real story-book hero!"

"I suspect that's the only time on record." Allen laughed again
consciously. "That's one epithet I haven't had hurled at me enough times
to make me nervous." He looked at the horses critically. "You don't
suppose there's any chance of a runaway here to give me another
opportunity, do you?"

"How about the football games, and the races at New London?" Alice
asked.

"What do you know about those?"