old Pilot, and I don't want to be good, and—and—you think he's no good yourself," at which The Duke opened his eyes.
"How do you know? I never said so!"
"You laughed at him to dad one day."
"Did I?" said The Duke, gravely. "Then I hasten to assure you that I have changed my mind. He is a good, brave man."
"He falls off his horse," she said, with contempt.
"I rather think he sticks on now," replied The Duke, repressing a smile.
"Besides," she went on, "he's just a kid; Bill said so."
"Well, he might be more ancient," acknowledged The Duke, "but in that he is steadily improving."
"Anyway," with an air of finality, "he is not to come here."
But he did come, and under her own escort, one threatening August evening.
"I found him in the creek," she announced, with defiant shamefacedness, marching in The Pilot half drowned.
"I think I could have crossed," he said, apologetically, "for Louis was getting on his feet again."
