"Yes," he answered. "I told him that same day. Told him that you said you could never be more to him than what you now are. Why do you ask, Erie?"
"I have wondered why he keeps coming here," she said slowly. "You scarcely need his companionship, now you are busy with your duties. But there," she broke off with a smile, "I have no right to doubt his sincerity; I am sure he has never spoken one word to me that he should not speak and I know he is really fond of you."
Landon knit his shaggy brows. "I don't know, Chick. I'm afraid he still hopes. He has as much as told me so. 'We've been too hasty with her,' he said, 'we must have patience.'"
Erie's face went very white. "He mustn't come here any more," she said quickly. "With your permission I shall tell him so, Daddy."
He was silent for a time. "Just as you like," he said at length. "If his comin' annoys you, dear, you tell him so."
She bent and kissed him. "Best Daddy ever was," she whispered. Then jumping up she ran to the stove and put the kettle on.
"I saw Billy Wilson yesterday when I was out sailing," she called, "and he had the sweetest little girl with him. Her name is Lou Scroggie and I fell in love with her on sight."
"Billy with a girl!" cried Landon in wonder.
"Yes. They were out in Billy's punt, gathering water-lilies, and, oh Daddy, they seemed so happy. I could have hugged them both. Billy told me that he and Maurice Keeler were going shooting ducks this morning and I asked him to come over here for breakfast as usual. The marsh shooting is all over by sunrise, you know."
Her father nodded. "I'll bet a cookie that was Billy's old muzzle loader I heard down in the duck-ponds about daylight," he laughed. "Maybe," he added hopefully, "he'll fetch us a brace of ducks."