“If you had not made yourself somewhat at home you would not have found it now.” She was very demure.
Steve lifted his eyes to her quickly, and she was rather nettled to see that he looked much amused at her speech.
“Exactly. You would not have had me act otherwise, I hope? We always wish our guests to make themselves at home. You Yankees don’t want to be behind us.”
She saw his eyes twinkle, and felt that he had said it to draw her fire, but she could not forbear firing back.
“No, but sometimes it does not seem necessary, as you Rebels appear inclined to make yourselves at home—sometimes even without an invitation.” Her chin went up a point.
Steve burst out laughing.
“A good square shot. I surrender, Miss Welch.”
“What! so easily? I thought you Rebels were better fighters? I have heard so.”
Steve only laughed.
“‘He that fights and runs away,’ you know. I can’t run, so I surrender. May I get you some cherries? The best are out on the end of the limbs, and I am afraid you might fall.” His voice had lost the tone of badinage and was full of deference and protection.