“We Yankees,” retorted she airily, “value our freedom above everything else. We won't surrender it without fighting for it first.” He caught eagerly at the lack of finality in her tones. “I don't want to take your freedom, Beatrice. I only want the right to love you.” “Oh, as for that, I suppose you may love me as much as you please--only so you don't torment me to death talking about it.” Beatrice, not looking particularly tormented, waved answer to Dick, who was shouting something up at her, and went blithely down the hill, with Sir Redmond following gloomily, several paces behind. CHAPTER 4. Beatrice Learns a New Language. “D'you want to see the boys work a bunch of cattle, Trix?” Dick said to her, when she came down to where he was leaning against a high board fence, waiting for her. “'Deed I do, Dicky--only I've no idea what you mean.” “The boys are going to cut out some cattle we've contracted to the government--for the Indians, you know. They're holding the bunch over in Dry Coulee; it's only three or four miles. I've got to go over and see the foreman, and I thought maybe you'd like to go along.” “There's nothing I can think of that I would like better. Won't it be fine, Sir Redmond?” Sir Redmond did not say whether he thought it would be fine or not. He still had the white streak around his mouth, and he went through the gate and on to the house without a word--which was undoubtedly a rude thing to do. Sir Redmond was not often rude. Dick watched him speculatively until he was beyond hearing them. Then, “What have you done to milord, Trix?” he wanted to know. “Nothing,” said Beatrice. “Well,” Dick said, with decision, “he looks to me like a man that has been turned down--hard. I can tell by the back of his neck.” This struck Beatrice, and she began to study the retreating neck of her suitor. “I can't see any difference,” she announced, after a brief scrutiny. “It's rather sunburned and thick.” “I'll gamble his mind is a jumble of good English oaths--with maybe a sprinkling of Boer maledictions. What did you do?” “Nothing--unless, perhaps, he objects to being disciplined a bit. But I also object to being badgered into matrimony--even with Sir Redmond.” “Even with Sir Redmond!” Dick whistled. “He's 'It,' then, is he?” Beatrice had nothing to say. She walked beside Dick and looked at the ground before her. “He doesn't seem a bad sort, sis, and the title will be nice to have in the family, if one cares for such things. Mother does. She was disappointed, I take it, that Wiltmar was a younger son.” “Yes, she was. She used to think that Sir Redmond might get killed down there fighting the Boers, and then Wiltmar would be next in line. But he didn't, and it was Wiltmar who went first. And now oh, it's humiliating, Dick! To be thrown at a man's head--” Tears were not far from her voice just then. “I can see she wants you to nab the title. Well, sis, if you don't care for the man--”