with her hands clasped about one of her knees, her chin tipped
enticingly up, and a riot of mischief rippling through her eyes and
parted lips, she has no business telling an over-toddied gentleman that
he'll never know what he can do until he tries. She may add that she
refers to the building of a railroad, to the conquering of a nation, to
the playing of a hand of bridge--but he will see nothing beyond the
seductive challenge. And Brent looked another instant at that enticing
picture, then stooped down and kissed her hair.

There was no tilted chin, no laughing challenge, now as she sprang up
and faced him. The change in her was like that of a limpid pool which
has suddenly become roiled by a violent splash, and her eyes flashed as
though all the vials of hate were about to be broken upon his head.

"I thought you were a gentleman." Her voice came slowly, with such utter
contempt that he winced.

"Your thought is quite correct," he said. "I am a gentleman, and a man,
and therefore vulnerable to such a temptation as you willfully threw at
me."

Her cheeks flamed. "I never dreamed of such a thing!"

"Don't misunderstand me. I didn't say invitation; I said temptation."

"But you meant invitation," she hotly retorted.

"I know I did," he surprised her by admitting, "and you meant
invitation, also. If you didn't, you're stupid;--and I'd rather think of
you as daring than stupid."

"You will please not think of me at all, or speak to me, ever again!"
she coolly said, and left the room.

Brent looked at the door through which she had disappeared. For several
minutes he stood, without any sign of movement, except that his teeth
were pressing rather hard upon his lower lip.

"John Barleycorn, you're a damned sneak," he muttered. "I've half a
notion never to speak to you again!"

Then, with a sigh, he went up stairs to dress.

CHAPTER XVIII

A DINNER OF SILENCES

The dinner was late, because Uncle Zack, wishing to make an everlasting
impression upon these neighbors of more moderate circumstances, had
spurred the cook to the limit of her capacity. So family and guests were
scattered about the porch, conversationally distrait as people are wont
to be while momentarily expecting the servant's announcement.

Nancy, in whose toilette discerning eyes would have seen a generous
share of Ann and Jane, was talking to the Colonel; who, in his turn, was
making her position of honor guest less trying than she had