reluctance. "It? There's a dozen, at the very least!"

Chip emptied his lungs of smoke, and turned the shoe in his hands.

"Oh, I guess not--there isn't room in this little bit of leather for a
dozen. Two would be crowded."

"I detest flattery above all things!" But, being a woman, the brow of
the Little Doctor cleared perceptibly.

"Yes? You're just like me in that respect. I love the truth."

Thinking of Dr. Cecil, the Little Doctor grew guiltily red. But she had
never said Cecil was a man, she reflected, with what comfort she could.
The boys, like Dunk, had simply made the mistake of taking too much for
granted.

Chip opened the smallest blade of his knife deliberately, sat down upon
a neighboring rock and finished his cigarette, still turning the shoe
reflectively--and caressingly--in his hand.

"I'd smile to see the Countess try to put that shoe on," he remarked,
holding the cigarette in some mysterious manner on his lip. "I'll bet
she couldn't get one toe in it."

"I don't see that it matters, whether she could or not," snapped the
Little Doctor. "For goodness sake, hurry!"

"You're pretty mad, aren't you?" inquired he, shoving his hat back off
his forehead, and looking at her as though he enjoyed doing so.