“So you think it is perfectly right, I suppose, for you to go round with anybody and everybody, without reference to me!”
“That was the agreement,” she replied.
“It was a one-sided agreement, anyway,” he grumbled. “It left me nowhere.”
“I am afraid no agreement would stand,” Polly returned. “I only wish you could see things from my viewpoint.”
“Oh, yes! You are on Don’t-Care-Hill. That’s your viewpoint! If I were there, it wouldn’t make any difference to me what you did.”
“So you think I don’t care!” Polly shook her head with a queer little smile. “But what is the use of going over all this again!” she cried. “How came you to stay over for the fête?” She was sorry the instant the words had crossed her lips fearing what it might lead to.
“Marietta wished it for one thing. And you don’t suppose I would allow you to come down here without me, where I couldn’t keep an eye on you—where—oh, darn it! I’m not going to let you go round with Ely and his crowd—not if I can help myself!”
“Tell me about your trip down,” said Polly, ignoring his answer.
“There isn’t anything to tell,” sulked David.
“Guess I’ll get Russell to take me up to your camp some day,” said Polly quietly. “I should like to see if there isn’t something on that long road worth talking about.”