word about lessons," Sheila protested.

"But I need them," Clyde admitted. "I never pretend to know what I
don't know."

"Sheila can give most men lessons," said Casey. "The only objection I
have is that I intended to instruct you myself."

Clyde laughed. "Which offer shall I accept?"

"Casey's," said Sheila promptly. "I won't be selfish. Besides,
educational statistics prove that we women imbibe knowledge faster from
men than from each other."

Clyde darted a swift glance at her. But Sheila's face told nothing. If
the words were intended to bear an added meaning she did not show it.

"Statistics are good for something, at last," said Casey.

"Give her Dolly," said Sheila. "Don't let her coax you into letting her
try that old brute, Shiner. He's almost an outlaw."

"Love me, love my horse!"

The quotation seemed careless. Sheila's face told Clyde nothing.

"'Like master, like horse' is more appropriate," said Sheila.

"Oh, I'm not an outlaw--yet," he said, with just the slightest pause
before the word.

Slight though it was, Clyde noticed it; noticed, too, the instant
shadow on Sheila's face, the quick contraction of her dark brows, the
momentary silence, transient but utter. It was as if the chill and
gloom of night had suddenly struck the summer's noonday.

But in a moment the conversation was resumed, and became general. Sandy
McCrae joined them, silent as usual, but evidently attracted by Clyde.
Presently Sheila took Casey to diagnose the case of a favourite, sick
collie.

"My heavens, Casey, did you see the kid?" she asked. "I never knew him
to look twice at a girl before."

"Every boy has to start some time," he laughed. "She's well worth
looking at."

"That's so. Yes, she's very pretty, Casey."

"I'm glad you like her."

It was on the tip of her tongue to disclaim, but she checked herself.
"She's different from what I expected. No airs. And she _looks_
sensible. Is she?"

"I think so."

"Yes, I think so, too. She dresses very simply. I was prepared to be
reduced to a condition of helpless feminine envy by her clothes. As it
is, I feel quite of the same clay."

"You don't need to envy anybody's clothes. That white dress looks good
to me. I never saw you looking better."

The rich blood crept up under her tanned cheeks. Such compliments were
rare in her life. Casey himself seldom paid them. Frank friendship was
very well; but now and then, womanlike, she longed for such current
coin of