"Of course he didn't, Felicia," broke in Peter. "What a question
to ask a man! Listen to the croakings of your miserable tadpoles
with the prettiest girl in seven counties--in seven States, for
that matter--sitting beside him! Oh!--you needn't look, you.
minx! If he heard a single croak he ought to be ducked in the
puddle--and then packed off home soaking wet."
"And that is what he is going to do himself," rejoined Ruth,
dropping into a chair which Peter had drawn up for her.
"Do what!" cried Peter.
"Pack himself off--going by the early train--nothing I can do or
say has made the slightest impression on him," she said with a
toss of her head.
Jack raised his hands in protest, but Peter wouldn't listen.
"Then you'll come back, sir, on Saturday and stay until Monday,
and then we'll all go down together and you'll take Ruth across
the ferry to her father's.
"Thank you, sir, but I am afraid I can't. You see, it all depends
on the work--" this last came with a certain tone of regret.
"But I'll send MacFarlane a note, and have you detailed as an
escort of one to bring his only daughter----"
"It would not do any good, Mr.
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