"I have been sitting out a couple of dances with Mr. Lighton, and he became unusually confidential," went on Agatha, turning almost pale: "and he tells me," pausing impressively, "he tells me that you—have—refused—him."
"He tells the truth," responded Lynn, looking annoyed, "and all I can say is, Agatha, that if you have torn me away from the dance"—
"Wait a moment," said Agatha, earnestly. "This is very important to me, Lynn. It isn't only that I feel sorry that you, being my cousin, should be so foolish as to refuse him, once; but what I want to know is,—did you mean it?"
"Assuredly I did," said Lynn, staring.
"You meant," said Agatha, pathetically, "you really meant, Lynn, to refuse that nice house and"—
"Yes, and that nice horse, too," exclaimed Lynn, turning red. "Upon my word this is too much! I can stand Aunt Lucy and Del, but when it comes to you, Agatha—understand once for all that I meant to refuse that nice house and that good-sized yard at the back and that commodious stable with all that it contains—not even excepting the horse which every one seemed to think that I would accept with tears of rapture, despite the fact that it was encumbered with a master whom I should have to accept, likewise, as they are inseparable."
"Oh, Lynn, dear! such a lot of long words and such a temper and all because I tried to advise you for your own good."
"Agatha, I give you fair warning that I shall gently but firmly assassinate the very next person who tries to advise me for my own good."
Agatha sat for a moment, absorbed in thought.
"Lynn," she said, presently, "does anyone know that you have refused Mr. Lighten?"