"Pussy, pussy," Graham whispered.

The pretty young blonde looked at him in surprise and bewilderment,
taken aback by the apparent irrelevance of his interruption.

"Cat," he censured in mock reproof.

"Oh!" she cried. "I never meant it that way. You will find we are
very frank here. Everybody knows Paula's age. She tells it herself.
I'm eighteen--so, there. And now, just for your meanness, how old are
you?"

"As old as Dick," he replied promptly.

"And he's forty," she laughed triumphantly. "Are you coming swimming?
--the water will be dreadfully cold."

Graham shook his head. "I'm going riding with Dick."

Her face fell with all the ingenuousness of eighteen.

"Oh," she protested, "some of his eternal green manures, or hillside
terracing, or water-pocketing."

"But he said something about swimming at five."

Her face brightened joyously.

"Then we'll meet at the tank. It must be the same party. Paula said
swimming at five."