“Where were you, Robert?” she asked rebukingly.
“Pacing the deck outside. I’ve no ambition to take the leading rôle in a barbecue.”
“It’s not so hot.”
“Well, it’s better now. Where’s Brute?”
Mrs. Nixon’s nostrils dilated. “Your very well-named friend has taken Miss Maynard up to the Lookout,” she returned suavely. “He made it very evident that he went under compulsion. I wished that you had been here.”
“Led him to it, did she?” Robert laughed. “Good for her. I like to see Brute coerced. And girls like to do it. She’s having the time of her life, never fear.”
“I don’t think so. It is a very disagreeable position for a young girl to be put in; and his manner was atrocious.”
“Mother,” Robert shook a sapient finger in her direction, “mother, there won’t be any disagreeable positions for that young lady.”
Mrs. Nixon regarded the speaker attentively.