THE FORK OF THE ROAD
they might try a chunk of lead on him," Teeters reassured her.
Miss Rathburn, having recovered her poise together with her drawl, was regarding the high luster on her nails when Disston came up on the porch before leaving.
"I am sorry I was rude, Beth," he said earnestly.
"Were you? " indifferently. "I hadn't noticed it."
"I did a contemptible thing to that girl once," he continued, "and I feel that the least I can do to make amends to refuse to allow her to be spoken of slightingly in my presence."
"Quite right, Hughie. You are a credit to our southern chivalry." Miss Rathburn suppressed a yawn with the tips of her pink tapering fingers.
"When I come back," he spoke propitiatingly, "the day after to-morrow, probably we'll go and see that petrified tree of which Teeters told us."
"A lovely bribe," languidly, "but don't hurry, for mother and I are leaving to-morrow."
"You mean that?"
"Certainly."
"I won't believe it."
"You always were incredulous, Hughie."
"I don't suppose I can convince you that I am very Fond of you, and that I shall feel badly if you leave like this?"
This was more like it—Miss Rathburn lowered her beautiful lashes.
"You haven't tried, have you?" she asked softly.
She looked very desirable at the moment—pink and wrhite and soft and fluffy—all that the traditions of his family demanded in a woman. He knew perfectly what was expected of him, and there was every reason why he
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