“Oh, well, it was just something Olga said,” began Gustus.

“Olga makes me sick,” said Kent, and he stalked over to claim a waltz with Lydia.

It was altogether an intoxicating evening and at its end Lydia pulled on her last winter’s overcoat and clambered into Kent’s little automobile, utterly satisfied with life.

“Well, did I give you a good time, Miss?” asked Kent, as they chug-chugged down the Avenue.

“Oh, Kent, it was wonderful!”

“And you don’t feel as if I were a villain any more?  You’ve forgiven me?”

“Forgiven you?  For what?”

“For not agreeing with you on the Indian question.  Gee, I was sore at you, Lyd, that morning at the hearing, and yet I was like your Dad.  I was proud of you, too.”

“Oh, don’t let’s talk about it, to-night, Kent,” Lydia protested.

“All right, old girl, only just remember that I can’t change.  I back Mr. Levine to the limit.  And maybe he hasn’t a surprise party coming for all of you!”

“I don’t care,” insisted Lydia.  “I’m going to be happy to-night, and I won’t talk Indians.  Oh, Kent, isn’t Gustus getting good-looking?”

“Too fat,” replied Kent.  “He drinks too much beer.  And let me call your attention to something funny.  As you know, he’s always had trouble getting in with the college set, because of the brewery.  But his father is the only well-to-do man in town who’s had nothing to do with the reservation, so now, by contrast, brewing becomes a highly honorable business!  And Gustus goes with ‘our very best families.’”

Lydia chuckled, then said, “Margery is feeling much better.  She’s at our house every Sunday.  You must come round and see her!”

“Why shouldn’t I come to see you, Lydia?” asked Kent, with a new note in his voice.

“Why, of course, you’d see me, but Margery’s always been the main attraction with you.”

“Has she?  Seems to me I recall a time when I couldn’t endure the sight of her.  And when you were the best pal I had.  That’s what you are, Lydia, a real pal.  A fellow can flirt round with the rest of ’em, but you’re the one to look forward to spending a lifetime with!”

Lydia drew a quick breath, then laughed a little uncertainly.  “You were the dearest boy!  Do you remember how you hated to wash your hands and that funny cotton cap you liked to wear with Goldenrod Flour printed across it?”

“Of course, I remember.  And I remember how the fellows used to tease me about you.  I licked Gustus twice for it, when we were in the ward schools.  Lydia, let’s go over those old trails together again.  To-morrow’s Sunday.  Let’s take a walk down to the Willows in the afternoon.”

“All right, Kent,” said Lydia, quietly, and silence fell on both of them till they drew up at the cottage gate.

Kent lifted Lydia to the ground, held both of her hands, started to speak, then with a half inarticulate, “Thank you, Lydia, and good-by till to-morrow,” he jumped into the little car and was gone.