“Well, he—oh, it isn’t that,” Enid began to stammer. “I can’t explain, Connie, but Pop has changed lately. He isn’t himself—he——”
“I think I understand,” Connie said quietly, although she didn’t at all.
“I hope I’ll see you at the rodeo,” Enid declared hastily. “I’ll have to be riding back now.”
Without looking directly at her friend, she sprang into the saddle and rode from the yard.
“Pop Bradshaw has told her to keep away from me,” Connie thought shrewdly. “One would think I might be a brand of poison! There’s something going on around here that I don’t understand.”
Scarcely had Enid left the courtyard when Forest Blakeman strode up to where Connie was standing.
“Wasn’t that Enid Bradshaw?” he asked curtly.
“Yes.”
“Did she want to see me?”
“If she did, she forgot to mention it.”