“Garry Knapp is a—a chump!” exclaimed Tavia, with some heat.
“But a very lovable chump,” added Dorothy, smiling patiently. “Oh, dear! It must be his decision, not mine, after all. I tell you, even the most modern of girls are helpless in the end. The man decides.”
Nat came back to North Birchland in haste. It needed only a word—even from his brother—to bring him. Perhaps he would have met Tavia as though no misunderstanding had arisen between them had she been willing to ignore their difficulty.
But when he kissed Dorothy and his mother, and turned to Tavia, she put out her hand and looked Nat sternly in the eye. He knew better than to make a joke of his welcome home with her. She had raised the barrier herself and she meant to keep it up.
“The next time you kiss me it must be in solemn earnest.”
She had said that to Nat and she proposed to abide by it. The old, cordial, happy-go-lucky comradeship could never be renewed. Nat realized that suddenly and dropped his head as he went indoors with his bag.
He had returned almost too late to meet Garry Knapp after all. The Westerner laughingly protested that he had loafed long enough. He had to run down to New York for a day or so to attend to some business for Bob Douglas and then must start West.
“Come back here before you really start for the ‘wild and woolly,’” begged Ned. “We’ll get up a real house party——”
“Tempt me not!” cried Garry, with hand raised. “It is hard enough for me to pull my freight now. If I came again I’d only have to—well! it would be harder, that’s all,” and his usually hopeful face was overcast.
“Remember you leave friends here, my boy,” said the major, when he saw the young man alone the evening before his departure. “You’ll find no friends anywhere who will be more interested in your success than these at The Cedars.”