"How about Cecilia?"
"Having found her silver note-book and given it back to her before breakfast, I may say that our relations are altogether cordial."
"Are you in love with her—yet?" asked Hezekiah, carelessly, tossing a pebble into the lake. The "yet" was so timed that it splashed with the pebble.
"No; not—yet," I replied.
"It will come," said Hezekiah a little ruefully, casting a pebble farther upon the crinkled water.
"You mean, Hezekiah, that men always fall in love with your sister."
She nodded.
"Well, she's a good deal of a girl."
"Beautiful and no end cultivated. They all go crazy about her."
"You mean Hartley Wiggins and his fellow-bandits at the Prescott Arms."