“How de do?” she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: “I knew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There’s going to be war in our house. Mother’s made a prisoner of the professor already, but he doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s going back to the tent, and she’s packing up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, till I get back. He said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in the woods. We both told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn’t leave a place where there was good cooking for all the professors in the world.”
“You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett,” said Yates, somewhat piqued by her frankness.
“Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but he doesn’t know when he’s well off, just the same. You do. He’s a quiet, stubborn man.”
“And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett—a quiet, stubborn man, or one who is conceited?”
Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. “Detest, you mean. I’m sure I don’t know. Margaret, which is the most objectionable?”
Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenly questioned, but said nothing.
Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: “Well, I must be off, or mother will have to tie up the professor to keep him,” and was off accordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn.
“Extraordinary girl,” remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls and calico dress disappeared.
“She is a good girl,” cried Margaret emphatically.
“Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don’t you think she is somewhat free with her opinions about other people?” asked Yates.