The young man’s face grew dark.
“You’d better try it!” he cried. “If you ever do, you’ll see me when you get there! And you’ll hear me, too!”
“Why should it be any worse for me to ride up there with him than it was for you to drive down here with Marietta?”
For an instant David stared, a singular, astonished expression on his face. Then it changed. “Oh! you’re jealous of Marietta, are you?” he sneered.
“No, David,” she answered, “not a bit. But one looks to me about the same as the other.”
“Well, it isn’t. I was speaking of coming, and Marietta said she wanted some things at the house, and I told her I would drive her down—just a sort of business arrangement.”
“Yes,” laughed Polly, “I guess that’s a good name for it, just a business arrangement.” She laughed again, a queer little laugh that made David look at her in a puzzled way.
“You know I don’t care anything about Marietta Converse,” he said.
“And you know that I care nothing for Russell Ely,” returned Polly.
“Huh! Looks like it!” scorned David.