"I?" replied Fosdick. "I simply told him where you were."
"But I suspected," said Hugo. "And, sure enough, I found her flirting with him. I stopped it—that's all."
Fosdick laughed boisterously—an unnatural laugh, Amy thought. "Do light your cigar, father," she said irritably. "It smells horrid."
Fosdick threw it away. "Horace is a mighty attractive fellow," he said. "I don't blame you, Mimi." Then, with good-humored seriousness, "But you must be careful, girl, not to raise false hopes in him. Be friendly, but don't place yourself in an unpleasant position. You oughtn't to let him lose sight of the—the gulf between you."
"What gulf?"
"You know perfectly well he's not in our class," exclaimed Hugo, helping out his somewhat embarrassed father.
"What is our class?" inquired Amy in her most perverse mood.
"Shut up, Hugo!" commanded his father. "She understands."
"But I do not," protested Amy.
"Very well," replied her father, kissing her. "Be careful—that's all. Now, I'll put you in your carriage." On the way he said gravely, tenderly, "I'll trust you with a secret—a part of one. I know Armstrong better than you do. He's an adventurer, and I fear he has got into serious trouble, very serious. Keep this to yourself, Mimi. Trust your father's judgment—at least, for a few months. Be most polite to our fascinating friend, but keep him at a safe distance."