"Say, Miss Talbot," she began as I laid out my toilet articles—"say, Miss Talbot, isn't Dick a king?"
"Eh?" said I, startled.
"I said isn't Dick a corker?" she repeated. "Do you know, I would have just about died out on the ranch if it hadn't been for him. Pa picked him up in Fresno when he was a hopper—picking hops with a bunch of greasers. Brought him home for me to play with. We went swimming together and riding together and everything when we were kids. Then pa sent him to school with me, and when he got some learning he gave him a job as foreman on the home outfit."
"He seems a nice young person," said I, "but he is a chauffeur!"
"You bet he is!" said Peaches enthusiastically. "The first car pa bought made him that! He can do anything with a car. I am in love with him!"
"Miss Pegg!" I said horrified. "A servant! What would your father say!"
"He'd say considerable!" remarked Peaches. "But he doesn't know it. And anyhow, I don't want to marry Dicky, even if he is your cousin. I just like being in love with some one, and he's simply crazy about me!"
Her innocence, not to say ignorance, was appalling. High time, indeed, that she had a proper chaperon!
"You must not play with so serious a subject!" I said severely. "And the young man is no relation of mine!"