Azalea's would-be haughty face and her reference to ill-breeding struck
Farnsworth so funny he laughed in spite of himself.
Azalea was quick to take advantage of this.
"Oh, Cousin William," she said, smilingly, "don't be hard on me. I'm only a wild Western girl, I know, but I'm—I'm your cousin and I claim your—your—"
Azalea didn't quite know what she was claiming, but as it was really a cessation of the interview that she most desired, she turned on her heel and walked rapidly toward the house.
"Hold on!" cried Farnsworth, "not so fast, Zaly. Before you leave me, listen to this. I am not at all satisfied with what you have told me,—or, rather, what you have refused to tell me,—and I am going to write to your father, and ask him why he doesn't write to you."
Azalea stood still, facing him, and her face turned white.
"Oh, no!" she cried, in a tone of dismay, "you mustn't do that!"
"But I will. There's no reason I shouldn't write to my relative. And I must get at the mystery of this thing."
"Don't do that, Cousin William, don't, I beg of you!" The girl was greatly excited now. Her face was drawn with terrified apprehension and her voice shook with fear.
"Why not?" Farnsworth demanded, and he grasped her arm as she tried to run away. "I'm going to have this out now, Azalea! Why shan't I write to Uncle Thorpe?"