What perfectly marvellous roses! How
did you succeed in growing them, Uncle Seth?"
He smiled sourly. "I didn't raise them," he replied. "That half-breed
Indian that drives John Cardigan's car brought them around about an
hour ago, along with a card. There it is, beside your plate."
She blushed ever so slightly. "I suppose Bryce Cardigan is
vindicating himself," she murmured as she withdrew the card from the
envelope. As she had surmised, it was Bryce Cardigan's. Colonel
Pennington was the proprietor of a similar surmise.
"Fast work, Shirley," he murmured banteringly. "I wonder what he'll
send you for luncheon. Some dill pickles, probably."
She pretended to be very busy with the roses, and not to have heard
him. Her uncle's sneer was not lost on her, however; she resented it
but chose to ignore it for the present; and when at length she had
finished arranging the flowers, she changed the conversation adroitly
by questioning her relative anent the opportunities for shopping in
Sequoia. The Colonel, who could assimilate a hint quicker than most
ordinary mortals, saw that he had annoyed her, and he promptly
hastened to make amends by permitting himself to be led readily into
this new conversational channel. As soon as he could do so, however,
he excused himself on the plea of urgent business at the office, and
left the room.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117