She looked at him with a blush. "In the name of my father, my mother and myself," she said.
"Oh," said he, "you are not the simple-minded beauty I expected to find. I suspect that your flatterers have not given you a fair chance. It is difficult to look through the dazzle and estimate the intelligence of a queen."
"Really! You come with a new flattery. My father's money—"
"Miss, or madam, your father is a pauper in comparison with the man who loves nature. He is a slave, living the life of a slave-driver. He is proud of you, not because you are a woman, but because you are, to him, a picture in a gilt frame."
"I just know everybody is looking at us," she said.
"You mean that you are afraid some of them may not be looking."
"Really! You are impudent, Mr.——"
"Have you forgotten your own name? Oh, by the way, your maiden name was McElwin, I believe."
She halted again to laugh. "Oh, this is too funny for anything," she said. "Isn't it, Zeb?"
"It won't be if your father looks around."