"I didn't even know there were any links here," she said.
"There are, fine ones. One of my errands, to-day, was to make some kind of an engagement with you. I've my reputation for laziness to redeem, you know."
"I wish you wouldn't remind me of all the horrid things I said to you," she said contritely.
He looked at her in surprise. It was not like the Phebe McAlister he had known, to speak like this. At Quantuck she had been cocksure, aggressive; now she was gentler, more womanly. He missed something of the piquancy; yet after all he rather liked the change.
"Really, aren't you enjoying it down here?" he asked.
"No; I am not. I'm all out of my element. I don't mind the work so much as I do the people. They despise me as a worldling, and I don't like being despised." For the moment, it was the old Phebe who was speaking. "Don't tell," she begged. "I'd rather die than have them know it at home. How long are you going to stay here?"
"About a week, I only came over last night."
"I don't see why I am glad to see you," Phebe said, with characteristic frankness. "I didn't know you much at Quantuck; it probably is because I associate you with the home people. You used to be around with Hope a good deal."
"What's the use of analyzing it?" he answered. "I'm here, and you are homesick and glad to see me. That's enough for any practical purposes. When are you going to play golf with me?"
"Can you really play?"