"
"They make them cheaply over here, I'm told," he retorted, setting his
heel emphatically down and annihilating a red and black caterpillar.
"Now, why did you do that? I must say you English are rather brutal?"
"I can't abide worms."
"Well, neither can I. And I think it would be foolish to quarrel about a
man's good looks," Beatrice said, with surprising sweetness.
Sir Redmond hunched his shoulders and retreated to the comfort of his
pipe. "A bally lot of good looks!" he sneered. "A woman is never
convinced, though."
"I am." Beatrice sat down upon a rock and rested her elbows on her knees
and her chin in her hands--and an adorable picture she made, I assure
you. "I'm thoroughly convinced of several things. One is Mr. Cameron's
good looks; another is that you're cross."
Oh, come, now!" protested Sir Redmond feebly, and sucked furiously at
his pipe.
"Yes," reiterated Beatrice, examining his perturbed face judicially;
"you are downright ugly."
The face of Sir Redmond grew redder and more perturbed; just as
Beatrice meant that it should; she seemed to derive a keen pleasure from
goading this big, good-looking Englishman to the verge of apoplexy.
"I'm sure I never meant to be rude; but a fellow can't fall down and
worship every young farmer, don't you know--not even to please you!"
Beatrice smiled and threw a pebble down the slope, watching it bound and
skip to the bottom, where it rolled away and hid in the grass.
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