He scanned her face closely.  “And you are not even interested in him?”

“Mr. Forbes Westcott,” said Roberta desperately, “I have told you often and often that I’m not interested in any man except as one or two are my very good friends.  Why can’t all girls be allowed to live along in peace and comfort until they are at least thirty years old?  You didn’t have anybody besieging you to marry before you were thirty.  If anybody had you’d have said ‘No’ quickly enough.  You had that much of your life comfortably to yourself.”

He bit his lip, but he was obliged to laugh.  His thin, keen face was more attractive when he laughed, but there was an odd, tense expression on it which did not leave it even then.

“I can see you are still hopeless,” he owned.  “But so long as you are hopeless for other men I can endure it, I suppose.  I really meant not to speak again for a long time, as I promised you.  But the thought of that embryo plutocrat making after you, as he has after so many girls—­”

“How many girls, I wonder?” queried Roberta quite carelessly.  “Do you happen to know?  Has his fame spread so far?”

“I know nothing about him, of course, except that he’s a gay young spendthrift.  It goes without saying that he’s made love to every pretty face, for that kind invariably do.”

“If it goes without saying, why say it?—­particularly as you don’t know it.  I dare say he has—­what serious harm?  I presume it’s quite as likely they’ve run after him.  I’m sure it’s a matter of no concern to me, for I know him very little and am likely to know him much less now that he doesn’t come to work with Uncle Calvin any more.  Let’s go back, Mr. Westcott.  I came out to look for pussy-willows, not for Robby-will-you’s!”

With which piece of audacity she dismissed the subject.  It certainly was not a subject which harmonized well with that of Midsummer Day, and the thought of Midsummer Day, quickened into active life by the unexpected sight of the person who had made a certain preposterous prophecy concerning it, was a thought which was refusing to down.

CHAPTER XVII

INTRIGUE

“Hi!—­Mr. Kendrick!—­I say, Mr. Kendrick!  Wait a minute!”

The car, about to leave the curb in front of one of Kendrick & Company’s great city stores, halted.  Its driver turned to see young Ted Gray tearing across the sidewalk in hot pursuit.

“Well, well—­glad to see you, Ted, boy.  Jump in and I’ll take you along.”

Ted jumped in.  He gave Richard Kendrick’s welcoming hand a hard squeeze.  “I haven’t seen you for an awful while,” said he reproachfully.  “Aren’t you ever coming to our house any more?”

“I hope so, Ted.  But, you see,” explained Richard carefully, “I’m a man of business now and I can’t have much time for calls.  I’m in Eastman most of the time.  How are you, Ted?  Tell me all about it.  Can you go for a spin with me?  I had to come into town in a hurry, but there’s no great hurry about getting back.  I’ll take you out into the country and show you the prettiest lot of apple trees in full bloom you ever saw in May.”