"Come on, Bernice," she urged. "The watahmelons are mighty fine, and we'd love to have you come."
"No, dearie," was the reply. "I've a lot of things to do to-day, but I'll see you to-night at the darky wedding."
"I'm mighty sorry you can't come," called Lloyd, then hurried on to catch up with the others. As she joined Rob and Betty she felt intuitively they had changed their subject of conversation at her approach. She had caught the question, "Then are you going to warn her?" and Betty's reply, "What's the use? It would only make her feel bad."
"What's that about warnings?" asked Lloyd, catching Betty's hand and swinging it as she walked along beside her.
"Something that Betty doesn't believe in," began Rob, "just as I don't believe in dreams. Why wouldn't Bernice come with you?"
"She said she had so much to do. Mistah Shelby is coming out latah. He is going to take her to Sylvia's wedding to-night."
"Speaking of warnings," burst out Rob, impulsively, "I'm going to give you one, Lloyd, whether you like it or not. Don't be too smiling and gracious when you meet Alex Shelby, or Bernice will be assaulting you for poaching on her preserves. You must keep out of her bailiwick if you want to keep her friendship. It's the kind that won't stand much of a strain."
"What do you mean, Rob Moore?" demanded Lloyd, hesitating between a laugh and the old feeling of anger that always flashed up when he referred to girls' friendships in that superior tone.
"I am devoted to Bernice and she is to me. If you are trying to pick a quarrel you may as well go along home, for I'm positively not going to fuss with you about anything whatsoevah until aftah all the company is gone."
"No'm! I don't want to quarrel," responded Rob, with exaggerated meekness. "I was merely giving you a warning—sort of playing Banshee for your benefit, but you don't seem to appreciate my efforts. Let's talk about watermelons."