“Oh, he is so clever,” chimed in Flavilla, “and is so perfectly well-bred and so delightful to us—­to Drusilla particularly.  He wrote the prettiest set of verses—­To Drusilla in June—­just dashed them off while he was watching her sketch Cooper’s Bluff from the southwest——­”

“He is really quite wonderful,” added Drusilla, sincerely, “and so generous and helpful when my drawing becomes weak and wobbly——­”

“Mr. Yates shows Drusilla how to hold her pencil,” said Flavilla, becoming warmly earnest in her appreciation of this self-sacrificing young man.  “He often lays aside his own sketching and guides Drusilla’s hand while she holds the pencil——­”

“And when I’m tired,” said Drusilla, “and the water colors get into a dreadful mess, Mr. Yates will drop his own work and come and talk to me about art—­and other things——­”

“He is so kind!” cried Flavilla in generous enthusiasm.

“And so vitally interesting,” said Drusilla.

“And so talented!” echoed Flavilla.

“And so—­” Drusilla glanced up, beheld something in the fixed stare of her parent that frightened her, and rose in confusion.  “Have I said—­ done—­anything?” she faltered.

With an awful spasm Mr. Carr jerked his congested features into the ghastly semblance of a smile.

“Not at all,” he managed to say.  “This is very interesting—­what you tell me about this p-pu—­this talented young man.  Does he—­does he seem—­ attracted toward you—­unusually attracted?”

“Yes,” said Drusilla, smiling reminiscently.

“How do you know?”

“Because he once said so.”

“S-said—­w-what?”

“Why, he said quite frankly that he thought me the most delightful girl he had ever met.”

“What—­else?” Mr. Carr’s voice was scarcely audible.

“Nothing,” said Drusilla; “except that he said he cared for me very much and wished to know whether I ever could care very much for him....  I told him I thought I could.  Flavilla told him so, too....  And we all felt rather happy, I think; at least I did.”

Her parent emitted a low, melodious sort of sound, a kind of mellifluous howl.

“Pa-pah!” they exclaimed in gentle consternation.

He beat at the empty air for a moment like a rotund fowl about to seek its roost.  Suddenly he ran distractedly at an armchair and kicked it.

They watched him in sorrowful amazement.

“If we are going to sketch Cooper’s Bluff this morning,” observed Drusilla to Flavilla, “I think we had better go—­quietly—­by way of the kitchen garden.  Evidently Pa-pah does not care for Mr. Yates.”

Orlando, the family cat, strolled in, conciliatory tail hoisted.  Mr. Carr hurled a cushion at Orlando, then beat madly upon his own head with both hands.  Servants respectfully gave him room; some furniture was overturned—­a chair or two—­as he bounced upward and locked and bolted himself in his room.