"My father is generally conceded to be something of a joker, I
believe," she said dully. "But it would never have occurred to me to
call him a particularly practical one. I don't like him," she added
without a flicker of expression.

"I don't either!" snapped Barton.

A trifle uneasily little Eve Edgarton went on. "Why--once when I was a
tiny child--" she droned.

"I don't know anything about when you were a tiny child," affirmed
Barton with some vehemence. "But just this afternoon--!"

In striking contrast to the cool placidity of her face one of Eve
Edgarton's boot-toes began to tap-tap-tap against the piazza floor.
When she lifted her eyes again to Barton their sleepy sullenness was
shot through suddenly with an unmistakable flash of temper.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Mr. Barton!" she cried out. "If you insist
upon riding with me, couldn't you please hurry? The afternoons are so
short!"

"If I 'insist' upon riding with you?" gasped Barton.

Disconcertingly from an upper window the Older Man's face beamed
suddenly down upon him. "Oh, don't mind anything she says," drawled
the Older Man. "It's just her cunning, 'meek' little ways."

Precipitately Barton bolted for his room.