The Westons occupied Bronson’s cabin with Dorothy.  Bronson pitched a tent, moved his belongings into it, and declared himself, jokingly, free from Dorothy’s immediate tyranny.

Dorothy, busy in the kitchen, asked her father to invite Lorry to dinner that evening.  Through a sort of youthful perverseness not unmixed with bucolic pride, Lorry declined the invitation.  He would be busy making ready for another trip in the hills.  He had already planned his own evening meal.  He appreciated the invitation, but they could get along without him.  These excuses satisfied Bronson.  Lorry’s real reason for declining was that Dorothy had not invited him in person.  He knew it, and felt ashamed of himself.  What reason had he to expect her to invite him personally, except that she had almost invariably done so heretofore?  And back of this was the subtle jealousy of caste.  The Westons were “her kind of folks.”  He was not really one of them.  Boyishly he fancied that he would do as a companion when there was no one else available.  He was very much in love with Dorothy and did not realize it.

And Dorothy was disappointed in him.  She had wanted the Westons to know what a really fine fellow he was.

Alice Weston at once recalled Lorry’s attitude toward her on a former occasion when he had been tacitly invited to go with them to the Horseshoe Hills and he had stayed at the hotel.  She told Dorothy that Mr. Adams was not to be taken too seriously.  After all, he was nothing more than a boy, and perhaps he would feel better, having declined to risk possible embarrassment at their table.

Dorothy was inwardly furious on the instant, but she checked herself.  What did Alice Weston know about Lorry?  Well, Alice knew that he was a good-looking young savage who seemed quite satisfied with himself.  She thought that possibly she could tame him if she cared to try.  Dorothy, with feminine graciousness, dared Alice to invite Lorry to the dinner.  Alice was to know nothing of his having declined an earlier invitation.  Greatly to Dorothy’s surprise, Alice Weston accepted the challenge.

She waited until just before the dinner hour.  Lorry was mending a pack-saddle when she came to his cabin.  He dropped his work and stood up.

“I have been thinking about that tramp you arrested,” she began.  “And I think you were right in what you did.”

“Yes, ma’am,” stammered Lorry.

Her manner had been especially gracious.

“And I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye—­that time”—­and she smiled—­“when you rode off waving your scarf—­”

“It was a leg of lamb,” corrected Lorry.

“Well, you waved it very gracefully.  What big, strong arms!  They don’t look so big when your sleeves are down.”

Lorry promptly rolled down his sleeves.  He felt that he had to do something.

“And there is so much to talk about I hardly know where to begin.  Oh, yes!  Thank you so much for repairing our car.”