“My!” said Azalea again.  Her bravado deserted her in the presence of these two merry visitors.  They seemed so at ease, so knowing, so carelessly polite, that Azalea felt as if they were beings from some other sphere.  The Farnsworths, she knew, made allowance for her because she was a guest in their household, but these people seemed to expect her to be like themselves, and she suddenly realised she couldn’t be as they were.

A strange contradictory streak in her nature often made her assume an accomplishment she did not possess, and now, knowing she couldn’t chat in their lively fashion, she took refuge in an attitude of bold hilarity, and talked loud and fast.

“I’ll love you, if you make love to me good and proper,” she said, with a burst of laughter.  “But I’ve got a beau back home, who’ll go for you, if he knows it!”

“Oh, we’ll keep it secret,” returned young Gale; “I’m awfully good at keeping secrets of that sort!  Trust me.  And it shall be my earnest endeavour to cut out said beau.  Meet me halfway, won’t you?”

“Yes, indeed, and then some!  I’m a great little old halfway meeter, you bet!”

“I’m sure of it!” Gale was laughing now.  “Let’s go out on the verandah and talk it over.”

“Don’t trust him too implicitly, Miss Thorpe,” warned Betty; “my brother is a first-grade scalawag,—­and I want you to be forewarned!”

“There, there, Sis, I’ll do my own forewarning.  Come along, Miss Thorpe, we’ll sit under the spreading wistaria tree.”

The two disappeared, and there was a moment’s silence, and then Patty said,

“Our cousin is from Arizona, and it’s hard for her, at first, to adapt herself to our more formal ways.  It must be great out there,—­all wide spaces, and big, limitless distances—­”

“God’s country!” said Farnsworth, who always had a love for his Western wilds.

“Nix!” cried Betty, “I’ve been there, and it’s just one cactus after another!”

“Well, cactuses are all right,—­in their place,” said Patty, smiling.  “They’re as much verdure as maples or redwoods.”

“Quite different kind of verdure,” said Betty.  “Now, Patty, I want to do something for your cousin,—­right away, I mean, to help you launch her.”

“Oh, no, Betty; you’re awfully kind, but—­”

“Yes, I shall, too.  I’m your nearest neighbour, and it’s my right.  I suppose you’ll give her a luncheon or something, first, and then I’ll follow it with a tea, or a dance, or whatever you like.  There’ll be lots of things for her later on, so I want to get my bid in first.  How pretty she is.”

“You’re a darling, Betty,” cried Patty, enthusiastically, touched by her friend’s kindness, “but,—­well, there’s no use mincing matters,—­I’m not sure Azalea is quite ready to be presented to society.”

“Oh, but your cousin—­”