She laid her gloved fingers lightly on his bridle hand.
"Don't be," she advised; "I'm not in love with him. If I were, it wouldn't matter. He has,
"'A neater, sweeter maiden,
"'In a greener, cleaner land.'
"He's told me all about her."
Horton shook his head, dubiously.
"I wish to the good Lord, he'd go back to her," he said. "This Platonic proposition is the doormat over-which two persons walk to other things. They end by wiping their feet on the Platonic doormat."
"We'll cross that—that imaginary doormat, when we get to it," laughed the girl. "Meantime, you ought to help me with Samson."
"Thank you, no! I won't help educate my successor. And I won't abdicate"—his manner of speech grew suddenly tense—"while I can fight for my foothold."
"I haven't asked you to abdicate. This boy has been here less than a year. He came absolutely raw—"
"And lit all spraddled out in the police court!" Wilfred prompted.