“The family is here. Edward Paxton could let them know who he is at any moment if he doesn’t trust the other Edward. Why doesn’t he?”
Elinor was silent.
“He’s afraid, Billie, I think,” she said presently.
“That’s just it,” cried Billie. “He’s always afraid, afraid, afraid.”
“It’s certainly queer, all of it,” answered Elinor, when a figure which had been standing behind a clump of palms stepped into the path.
It was Clarence Paxton, and so little did Billie trust this treacherous cousin of her friends, that she gladly joined Timothy Peppercorn who had come running down the walk to find her.
“They are playing the barn dance, Billie,” cried the red-headed youth, eagerly. “We had such a jim-dandy barn dance together at the Duffy’s, I thought we might try it again to-night.”
“‘Barkis is willin’,” answered Billie, and away they ran like two frisky young colts.
“I don’t know any of the native dances, Miss Butler,” said Clarence, who was much more English than his cousins, “or I would ask you to try this—er—jig——”
“Barn dance,” prompted Elinor, who also had no liking for Edward’s cousin.