Dorman toiled up the steps, his straw hat perilously near to slipping
down his back, his face like a large, red beet, and his hands vainly
trying to reach around a baking-powder can which the Chinaman cook had
given him.
He marched straight to where Beatrice was lying in the hammock. If she
had been older, or younger, or a plain young woman, one might say that
Beatrice was sulking in the hammock, for she had not spoken anything but
"yes" and "no" to her mother for an hour, and she had only spoken those
two words occasionally, when duty demanded it. For one thing, Sir
Redmond was absent, and had been for two weeks, and Beatrice was
beginning to miss him dreadfully. To beguile the time, she had ridden,
every day, long miles into the hills. Three times she had met Keith
Cameron, also riding alone in the hills, and she had endeavored to amuse
herself with him, after her own inimitable fashion, and with more or
less success. The trouble was, that sometimes Keith seemed to be
amusing himself with her, which was not pleasing to a girl like
Beatrice. At any rate, he proved himself quite able to play the game of
Give and Take, so that the conscience of Beatrice was at ease; no one
could call her pastime a slaughter of the innocents, surely, when the
fellow stood his ground like that. It was more a fencing-bout, and
Beatrice enjoyed it very much; she told herself that the reason she
enjoyed talking with Keith was because he was not always getting hurt,
like Sir Redmond--or, if he did, he kept his feelings to himself, and
went boldly on with the game.
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