"He's a queer boy," she said. "Not like us."
"You're highland plants. He's a hot-house product. Be good to him, my daughter—promise me."
"He's an awful liar," she said bluntly.
"He has more imagination than all you young ones put together," said her father warmly. "He knows
'How short the way to fairyland
Across the purple hill.'
He will go further than——" then he stopped.
"I know what you were going to say," she remarked shrewdly. "You think he'll go further than any of us."
"He will when he gets his horns out of the velvet. I see in him a leader of men. Don't you feel his strange fascination?"
"Not a bit. He's a nice boy, but he's not as much of a boy as Big Chief. This chap couldn't lick me. Big Chief can."