“Of course I don’t want to rub it in, but if you had listened to——”
“——Grandmother Damron. Well, I didn’t—and I’m not going to.” Miss Gray’s chin was in the air. She wheeled and began to climb the hillside.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
She can be very deaf on occasion.
“Oh, up the hill,” she flung over her shoulder in answer to my question repeated.
“But you said you weren’t going back.”
“Can’t I change my mind, Grandmother?”
“You don’t need to be rude,” I said sulking.
I toiled in her wake, and Corduroy in mine. The pace she set soon had us puffing. Miss Gray is one of those young women who do outdoor things better than most men. She never fainted in her life, and nerves are a fairy tale to her. It always ruffles my temper and my vanity to do a twosome with her at golf.
“Hello, you people! Just in time for lunch. Glad to see you, Damron,” sang out Halloway cheerily as we emerged from the aspens into view at the rear of the cliff.