Her Prairie Knight [13]
want him to be nice," flared Beatrice. "I don't care how he acts. Only, I must say, ill humor doesn't become him. Not that it matters, however."
"Well, I guess we can get along without him, if he won't honor us with his company. Here comes Keith. Brace up, sis, and be pleasant."
Beatrice glanced casually at the galloping figure of Dick's neighbor, and frowned.
"You mustn't flirt with Keith," Dick admonished gravely. "He's a good fellow, and as square a man as I know; but you ought to know he's got the reputation of being a hard man to know. Lots of girls have tried to flirt and make a fool of him, and wound up with their feelings hurt worse than his were."
"Is that a dare?" Beatrice threw up her chin with a motion Dick knew of old.
"Not on your life! You better leave him alone; one or the other of you would get the worst of it, and I'd hate to see either of you feeling bad. As I said before, he's a bad man to fool with."
"I don't consider him particularly dangerous--or interesting. He's not half as nice as Sir Redmond." Beatrice spoke as though she meant what she said, and Dick had no chance to argue the point, for Keith pulled up beside them at that moment.
Beatrice seemed inclined to silence, and paid more attention to the landscape than she did to the conversation, which was mostly about range conditions, and the scanty water supply, and the drought.
She was politely interested in Keith's ranch, and if she clung persistently to her society manner, why, her society manner was very pleasing, if somewhat unsatisfying to a fellow fairly drunk with her winsomeness. Keith showed her where she might look straight up the coulee to her brother's ranch, two miles away, and when she wished she might see what they were doing up there, he went in and got his field-glass. She thanked him prettily, and impersonally, and focused the glass upon Dick's house--which gave Keith another chance to look at her without being caught in the act.
"How plain everything is! I can see mama, out on the porch, and Miss Hayes." She could also see Sir Redmond, who had just ridden up, and was talking to the ladies, but she did not think it necessary to mention him, for some reason; she kept her eyes to the glass, however, and appeared much absorbed. Dick rolled himself a cigarette and watched the two, and there was a twinkle in his eyes.
"I wonder--Dick, I do think--I'm afraid--" Beatrice hadn't her society manner now; she was her unaffected, girlish self; and she was growing excited.
"What's the matter?" Dick got up, and came and stood at her elbow.
"They're acting queerly. The maids are running about, and the cook is out, waving a large spoon, and mama has her arm around Miss Hayes, and Sir Redmond."
"Let's see." Dick took the glass and raised it to his eyes for a minute. "That's right," he said. "They're making medicine over something. See what you make of it, Keith."
Keith took the glass and looked through it. It was like a moving picture; one could see, but one wanted the interpretation of sound.
"We'd better ride over," he said quietly. "Don't worry, Miss Lansell; it probably isn't anything serious. We can take the short cut up the coulee, and find out." He put the glass into its leathern case and started to the gate, where the horses were standing. He did not tell Beatrice that Miss Hayes had just been carried into the house in a faint, or that her mother was behaving in an undignified fashion strongly suggesting hysterics. But Dick knew, from the look on his face, that it was serious. He hurried before them with long strides, leaving Beatrice, for the second time that morning, to the care of his neighbor.
So it was Keith who held his hand down for the delicious pressure of her foot, and arranged her habit with painstaking care, considering the hurry they were in. Dick was in the saddle, and gone, before Keith had finished, and Keith was not a slow young man, as a rule. They ran the two miles without a break, except twice, where there were gates to close. Dick, speeding a furlong before, had obligingly
"Well, I guess we can get along without him, if he won't honor us with his company. Here comes Keith. Brace up, sis, and be pleasant."
Beatrice glanced casually at the galloping figure of Dick's neighbor, and frowned.
"You mustn't flirt with Keith," Dick admonished gravely. "He's a good fellow, and as square a man as I know; but you ought to know he's got the reputation of being a hard man to know. Lots of girls have tried to flirt and make a fool of him, and wound up with their feelings hurt worse than his were."
"Is that a dare?" Beatrice threw up her chin with a motion Dick knew of old.
"Not on your life! You better leave him alone; one or the other of you would get the worst of it, and I'd hate to see either of you feeling bad. As I said before, he's a bad man to fool with."
"I don't consider him particularly dangerous--or interesting. He's not half as nice as Sir Redmond." Beatrice spoke as though she meant what she said, and Dick had no chance to argue the point, for Keith pulled up beside them at that moment.
Beatrice seemed inclined to silence, and paid more attention to the landscape than she did to the conversation, which was mostly about range conditions, and the scanty water supply, and the drought.
She was politely interested in Keith's ranch, and if she clung persistently to her society manner, why, her society manner was very pleasing, if somewhat unsatisfying to a fellow fairly drunk with her winsomeness. Keith showed her where she might look straight up the coulee to her brother's ranch, two miles away, and when she wished she might see what they were doing up there, he went in and got his field-glass. She thanked him prettily, and impersonally, and focused the glass upon Dick's house--which gave Keith another chance to look at her without being caught in the act.
"How plain everything is! I can see mama, out on the porch, and Miss Hayes." She could also see Sir Redmond, who had just ridden up, and was talking to the ladies, but she did not think it necessary to mention him, for some reason; she kept her eyes to the glass, however, and appeared much absorbed. Dick rolled himself a cigarette and watched the two, and there was a twinkle in his eyes.
"I wonder--Dick, I do think--I'm afraid--" Beatrice hadn't her society manner now; she was her unaffected, girlish self; and she was growing excited.
"What's the matter?" Dick got up, and came and stood at her elbow.
"They're acting queerly. The maids are running about, and the cook is out, waving a large spoon, and mama has her arm around Miss Hayes, and Sir Redmond."
"Let's see." Dick took the glass and raised it to his eyes for a minute. "That's right," he said. "They're making medicine over something. See what you make of it, Keith."
Keith took the glass and looked through it. It was like a moving picture; one could see, but one wanted the interpretation of sound.
"We'd better ride over," he said quietly. "Don't worry, Miss Lansell; it probably isn't anything serious. We can take the short cut up the coulee, and find out." He put the glass into its leathern case and started to the gate, where the horses were standing. He did not tell Beatrice that Miss Hayes had just been carried into the house in a faint, or that her mother was behaving in an undignified fashion strongly suggesting hysterics. But Dick knew, from the look on his face, that it was serious. He hurried before them with long strides, leaving Beatrice, for the second time that morning, to the care of his neighbor.
So it was Keith who held his hand down for the delicious pressure of her foot, and arranged her habit with painstaking care, considering the hurry they were in. Dick was in the saddle, and gone, before Keith had finished, and Keith was not a slow young man, as a rule. They ran the two miles without a break, except twice, where there were gates to close. Dick, speeding a furlong before, had obligingly