It was plain enough that Diamond was not bashful, and that was what aroused Hattie. Inwardly she resolved to win attention from him. She was a bright girl, and she began to sound Diamond, in order to find out as far as possible what his tastes were. She found he loved flowers, read Thackeray, Scott and Tennyson, admired handsome horses and dogs, and thought Frank Merriwell the finest fellow in the whole wide world. But, although she chatted intelligently of the things Jack liked best, she gave it up and rode forward a bit till she was beside Mabel.
“It’s no use,” she laughed, speaking so Mabel alone could hear, “I can’t make an impression on the Virginian. He is bullet proof. Wonder if all Southerners are that way?”
“I’ll chance it that he is in love,” laughed Mabel. “He must be!” exclaimed Hattie. “But even if he is, he’s the first fellow I ever saw who wouldn’t flirt a little.”
“And he will not flirt at all?”
“Not a bit!”
“Well, there are others.”
“Oh, Mabel!” exclaimed the dark-haired girl. “I thought you signed the pledge never, never to use slang again. Why, since I signed that pledge, slang gives me that tired feeling. I’m dead sore on anything like slang.”
And then Hattie wondered why Mabel laughed so merrily.
Mabel found an opportunity to ask Frank about Jack.
“Hattie says he acts as if he is in love,” laughed the light-haired girl. “Is it true? I know it is by the expression on your face! Oh, do tell us about it!”