"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she said helplessly, "he's gone out of sight! And I had such a splendid shot!" She stamped with vexation. "What a goose!" she repeated. "I had a perfectly splendid shot. And all I did was to jump like a scared cat and stare!"
"Anyway, you didn't run, and that's a point gained," observed her brother. "I had to. And that's one on me."
A moment later he said: "I believe those impudent boar do need a little thinning out. When is Duane coming?"
"In November," said Geraldine, still looking vaguely about for the departed pig.
"Early?"
"I think so, if his father is all right again. I've asked Naïda, too. Rosalie wants to come——"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't," he protested. "All I wanted was a shooting party to do a little scientific thinning out of these boar. I'll do some myself, too."
Geraldine laughed. "Rosalie is a dead shot at a target, dear. She wrote asking us to invite her to shoot. I don't see how I can very well refuse her. Do you?"
"That means her husband, too," grumbled Scott, "and that entire bunch."
"No; if it's a shooting party, I don't have to ask him."