never concealed anything, passed, and a quick smile followed her
feminine anticlimax.

"Miss Carr," he said, with boyish eagerness, "if any man suggested to me
that your father wasn't the brightest and best of his kind--too wise and
clever for the fools about him to understand--I'd--I'd shoot him."

Confused by his ready and gracious disclaimer of what she had NOT
intended to say, there was nothing left for her but to rush upon
what she really intended to say, with what she felt was shameful
precipitation.

"One word more, Mr. Kearney," she began, looking down, but feeling the
color come to her face as she spoke. "When you spoke to me the day you
left, you must have thought me hard and cruel. When I tell you that I
thought you were alluding to Jessie and some feeling you had for her--"

"For Jessie!" echoed George.

"You will understand that--that--"

"That what?" said George, drawing nearer to her.

"That I was only speaking as she might have spoken had you talked to her
of me," added Christie hurriedly, slightly backing her horse away from
him.

But this was not so easy, as George was the better rider, and by an
imperceptible movement of his wrist and foot had glued his horse to her
side. "He will go now," she had thought, but he didn't.