you don't
hate me at all!"

"I'm going home, anyhow," she retorted bitterly. "You may draw your own
conclusions."

Still, she did not go, which possibly had a confusing effect upon his
inferences.

"Just one minute, ma'am, if you please. How did you know so pat where
the little black horse was? _I_ didn't tell you."

Little waves of scarlet followed each other to her burning face.

"I'm not going to stay another moment. You're detestable! And it's
nearly sundown."

"Oh, you needn't hurry. It's not far."

She followed his gesture. To her intense mortification she saw the blue
smoke of her home campfire flaunting up from a gully not half a mile
away. It was her turn to droop now. She drooped.

There was a painful silence. Then, in a far-off, hard, judicial tone:

"How long, ma'am, if I may ask, have you known that the little black
horse was tangled up?"

Miss Ellinor's eyes shifted wildly. She broke a twig from a mahogany
bush and examined the swelling buds with minutest care.

"Well?" said her ruthless inquisitor sternly.

"Since--since I went for your hat," she confessed in a half whisper.

"To deceive me so!" Pain, grief, surprise, reproach, were in his words.
"Have you anything to say?" he added sadly.

A slender shoe peeped out beneath her denim skirt and tapped on a buried
boulder. Ellinor regarded the toetip with interest and curiosity. Then,
half-audibly:

"We were having such a good time.... And it might never happen again!"

He captured both her hands. She drew back a little--ever so little; she
trembled slightly, but her eyes met his frankly and bravely.

"No, no!... Not now.... Go, now, Mr. Bransford. Go at once. We will have
a pleasant day to remember."

"Until the next pleasant day," said resolute Bransford, openly exultant.
"But see here, now--I can't go to Lake's camp or to Lake's ball"--here
Miss Ellinor pouted distinctly--"or anything that is Lake's. After your
masked ball, then what?"

"New York; but it's only so far--on the map." She held her hands apart
very slightly to indicate the distance. "On a little map, that is."

"I'll drop in Saturdays," said Jeff.

"Do! I want to hear you sing the rest about the little eohippus."

"If you'll sing about Sandy!" suggested Jeff.

"Why not? Good-by now--I must go."

"And you won't sing about Sandy to any one else?"

The girl considered doubtfully.

"Why--I don't know--I've known you for a very little while, if you
please." She g