“I never said I didn't care for him. But I just can't treat him decently, with mama dinning that title in my ears day and night. I wish there wasn't any title. Oh, it's abominable! Things have come to that point where an American girl with money is not supposed to care for an Englishman, no matter how nice he may be, if he has a title, or the prospect of one. Every one laughs and thinks it's the title she wants; they'd think it of me, and they'd say it. They would say Beatrice Lansell took her half-million and bought her a lord. And, after a while, perhaps Sir Redmond himself would half-believe it--and I couldn't bear that! And so I am--unbearably flippant and--I should think he'd hate me!” “So you reversed the natural order of things, and refused him on account of the title?” Dick grinned surreptitiously. “No, I didn't--not quite. I'm afraid he's dreadfully angry with me, though. I do wish he wasn't such a dear.” “You're the same old Trix. You've got to be held back from the trail you're supposed to take, or you won't travel it; you'll bolt the other way. If everybody got together and fought the notion, you would probably elope with milord inside a week. Mother means well, but she isn't on to her job a little bit. She ought to turn up her nose at the title.” “No fear of that! I've had it before my eyes till I hate the very thought of it. I--I wish I could hate him.” Beatrice sighed deeply, and gave her hand to Dorman, who scurried up to her. “I'll have the horses saddled right away,” said Dick, and left them. “Where you going, Be'trice? You going to ride a horse? I want to, awf'lly.” “I'm afraid you can't, honey; it's too far.” Beatrice pushed a yellow curl away from his eyes with tender, womanly solicitude. “Auntie won't care, 'cause I'm a bother. Auntie says she's goin' to send for Parks. I don't want Parks; 'sides, Parks is sick. I want a pony, and some ledder towsers wis fringes down 'em, and I want some little wheels on my feet. Mr. Cam'ron says I do need some little wheels, Be'trice.” “Did he, honey?” “Yes, he did. I like Mr. Cam'ron, Be'trice; he let me ride his big, high pony. He's a berry good pony. He shaked hands wis me, Be'trice--he truly did.” “Did he, hon?” Beatrice, I am sorry to say, was not listening. She was wondering if Sir Redmond was really angry with her--too angry, for instance, to go over where the cattle were. He really ought to go, for he had come West in the interest of the Eastern stockholders in the Northern Pool, to investigate the actual details of the work. He surely would not miss this opportunity, Beatrice thought. And she hoped he was not angry. “Yes, he truly did. Mr. Cam'ron interduced us, Be'trice. He said, 'Redcloud, dis is Master Dorman Hayes. Shake hands wis my frien' Dorman.' And he put up his front hand, Be'trice, and nod his head, and I shaked his hand. I dess love that big, high pony, Be'trice. Can I buy him, Be'trice?” “Maybe, kiddie.”