"You'll not be given an opportunity. I'm going to ask Mr. Merriwell to have a rig hitched up right away. It will take you to the station. Make any excuses you choose or no excuses whatever—but you're going. Better hurry back to the house now and pack up. Go on!"
She saw words were useless, and, therefore, she turned and hurried away toward the house.
Carker stood there, his right elbow in his left palm, his chin resting on his hand. He heard no sound and was unaware of any one's presence until a hand touched his arm.
With a start, he found himself face to face with Juanita. There was a strange rapturous light in the girl's eyes.
"I asked for the proof," she whispered. "You gif eet to me when you deed not know I was there behind the shrubberee. I hear you tell her she must go. I hear you tell her that you—that you—that you——"
"That I'm going to marry you," said Carker, taking both her hands in his. "I mean it, Juanita. I've decided on my course in the future. If I'll quit lecturing on socialism and suppress my thoughts and theories in that line, Carker, senior, will give me a lift in the world. He'll change his will if he becomes satisfied that I've reformed. I'm a socialist, Juanita, and I shall always remain a socialist. But, perhaps, I've been a little too rabid—perhaps I've been a little too rank. Socialism is all right, but home is a great deal better. I'm going to have a home of my own, and I'm going to have you for the chief director of that home. I think I'll be satisfied to settle down with you there to anchor me. I'm going to kiss you now, Juanita."
"Oh, Gregoree——" she murmured.
His lips smothered the remainder of the protest.