"Of course you know best," Cynthia replied, drawing in her chin with some hauteur. "I shouldn't think of urging you."
"I'd be bully glad to come another day," reiterated Robert Morton, fully conscious he had offended his fair guest, yet determined to stand his ground. "Tell the affluent Roger to slide over in his racer sometime when he has nothing better to do and get me."
"He will probably only be here for the week-end," retorted Cynthia coldly.
"Sunday, then; why not Sunday? Mr. Spence and I do not work Sundays."
"All right, if you positively won't come to-day. But I don't see why you can't come now and Sunday, too."
"I couldn't do it, dear lady."
"Well, Sunday then, if that is the earliest you can make it."
She smiled an adieu to Willie and Celestina, and with her little head proudly set preceded Bob to her car. But although the great engine throbbed and purred, it was some time before it left the gate and flashed its way down the high road toward Belleport.
After it had gone and Bob was once more in the house, Celestina had a score of questions with which to greet him. How remarkable it was that the owner of the missing jewelry should be some one he knew! The Galbraiths must be well-to-do. What was the brother like? Did he favor his sister?
These and numberless other inquiries like them furnished Celestina with conversation for the rest of the day. Willie, on the contrary, was peculiarly silent, and although his furtive glance traveled at frequent intervals over his young friend's face, he made no comment concerning Miss Cynthia L. Galbraith and her silver buckle.