"They were no enemies of mine! Didn't you hear me debating that matter with your father? They were his enemies and they pounced on me by mistake. It's not their fault that they didn't kill me!"
"That's a likely story. That little creek is the quietest place in the world."
"How do you know?" I demanded, bending closer toward her.
"Because my father tells me so! That was the reason he chose it."
"He wanted a place to hide when the cities became too hot for him. I advise you, Miss Holbrook, in view of all that has happened, and if you have any sense of decency left, to keep away from there."
"And I suggest to you, Mr. Donovan, that your devotion to my aunt does not require you to pursue my father. You do well to remember that a stranger thrusting himself into the affairs of a family he does not know puts himself in a very bad light."
"I am not asking your admiration, Miss Holbrook."
"You may save yourself the trouble!" she flashed; and then laughed out merrily. "Let us not be so absurd! We are quarreling like two school-children over an apple. It's really a pleasure to meet you in this unconventional fashion, but we must be amiable. Our affairs will not be settled by words—I am sure of that. I must beg of you, the next time you come forth at night, to wear your cloak and dagger. The stage-setting is fair enough; and the players should dress their parts becomingly. I am already named Rosalind—at night; Aunt Pat we will call the Duchess in exile; and we were speaking a moment ago of the Fool. Well, yes; there was a Fool."
"I might take the part myself, if Gillespie were not already cast for it."
"Gillespie?" she said wonderingly; then added at once, as though memory had prompted her: "To be sure there is Gillespie."