“And how will you explain getting in so late from a dinner,” Howard inquired.
“Mother won’t have any idea as to the time I get in,” she answered quickly. “She’ll be in bed—and if by any chance she should be up—leave it to me to think of something to say.”
“Well, just the same, Sis, I don’t like it.” Howard fairly growled.
“You don’t like it,” she laughed heartily. “Well of all things—since when do I have to cater to your likes and dislikes?”
“I know Templeton Druid pretty well,” he answered. “He’s a good bit of a rotter, and I don’t like to see my sister get mixed up with him.”
“Why, Howard! When I told you I knew him, you said he was a good friend of yours, and one of the finest fellows you knew—didn’t you?” she asked spiritedly.
“Yes; but I didn’t think you would fall for him like this. He chases after every girl he meets.”
“That isn’t true,” Elinor flared. “It’s the girls who run after him. Why, you’d be surprised if you only knew how many women in our own set write to him.”
“Yes,” Howard sneered, “and I suppose he tells you about them, or probably shows you their letters. That ought to show you just what kind of a fellow he is.”
“At any rate,” she assured him, “I’d be willing to wager you one thing. He’d prove a better friend than you are. He wouldn’t knock you—behind your back.”