“I'll speak to him when he comes. He needn't think just because he is a city fellow, he can take a daughter of mine racing all over the country on Sunday afternoon!”
“Why, Dad, that's absurd! Don't you take me yourself almost every Sunday? And don't I go with Noah, and the Brooks boys whenever I like?”
“Well, you can't go to-day.”
“But this is Donald's last day. He goes back to town to-night, and he may go abroad next week to stay ever and ever so long.”
The Colonel brought his fist down on his knees: “I don't care a hang where he goes. It's you we are talking about. You've got to promise me not to go with him this afternoon.”
“But why?”
“Because,” the Colonel argued feebly, “because it's Sunday.”
Miss Lady sat for a moment looking straight before her and there was a contraction of her lips that might have passed for a comic imitation of her father's had it not softened into a smile.
“Suppose I won't promise?” she said.
The Colonel's free hand gripped the arm of the chair, and he looked as if he had every intention in the world of being firm.