Robert stood motionless. The storm raging up and down within him turned him to steel on the surface. From a dry throat he tried to speak clearly and with moderation.
"You said—'almost!' Who is it—you care more for?—Cary Patten?"
Barbara broke into a clear peal of laughter, and clapped her hands with a fine assumption of glee.
"Oh, you silly, silly child!" she exclaimed. "It was Uncle Bob, of course, that I was thinking of when I said that. I love Uncle Bob better than any one else in the world,—far better than I love you, Robert, I can tell you that. But I care for you almost as much as for Aunt Hitty. Cary Patten! Why, he and these other nice men who are making things so pleasant for me, they are just new friends. I like them, that's all. You are altogether different, you know. But I'm just not in love with you,—and so you talk of going away and spoiling everything for me. I don't call that loving me, Robert,—not as I would love a girl if I were a man. But it's not my fault if I'm not in love myself, is it? I'm sorry,—but I don't believe I can love, really, the way you mean! Cary Patten, indeed! Why, he's just a boy,—a nice, good-looking, saucy, conceited boy!"
"Can't you try to love me, Barbara?" pleaded Robert, his wrath all gone. He flung himself down at her feet, and wildly kissed them. All this she permitted smilingly, but the request seemed to her, as it was, a very foolish one.
"No, I can't!" she answered, with decision. "Trying wouldn't make me. And I don't think I want to, anyhow. I want to enjoy myself here while I can. And I want you to be nice, and help me enjoy myself, and not bother me. Love me just as much as you like, Robert, but don't tell me so—too often! And don't ask me to love you. And don't go and be lovely to the other girls, and make believe you are not in love with me, for that would displease me very much, though I should know it was making believe because you were cross at me. So, don't be horrid!"
This seemed to Robert a somewhat one-sided arrangement. He knew he would accept it, yet his honesty compelled him to express his sense of its injustice.
"I certainly would be lovely to the other girls if I wanted to, my lady," said he, doggedly. "The trouble is, I don't want to. And I sha'n't bore myself just for the sake of trying to make you think I don't care. I love you, that's all—better than anything else in heaven or earth. And I shall make you love me, my lady!"
This threat amused Barbara, but did not displease her.
"Very well, Robert," she answered, with a teasing, alluring look that made his heart jump. "I sha'n't try to prevent you. I'll even like you a little better now, at once, if you will go right away this minute and let me dress."