In the afternoon Holly and Rosa and the Major piled into his buggy and went for a ride, while Miss India retired for her nap, and Winthrop and Edith sat on the porch. Miss Bartram was a tall, graceful, golden-haired beauty of nineteen, with sentimental gray eyes and an affectation of world-weariness which Winthrop found for a time rather diverting. They perched on the joggling-board together and discussed Holly, affinities, Julian Wayne, love, Richmond, New York, Northern customs――which Miss Edith found very strange and bizarre――marriage in the abstract, marriage in the concrete as concerned with Miss Edith, flowers, Corunna, Major Cass, milk-shakes, and many other subjects. The girl was a confirmed flirt, and Winthrop tired of her society long before relief came in the shape of a laughing trio borne into sight behind a jogging gray mule. After supper they played hearts, after a fashion introduced by Miss Bartram. Whoever held the queen of spades when a game was ended received a smudge on the face from each of the other players, whose privilege it was to rub one finger in the soot of the fireplace and inscribe designs on the unfortunate one’s countenance. As the queen of spades and Major Cass developed an affinity early in the evening the latter was a strange and fearsome sight when the party broke up. The Major was to take Miss Edith back to town with him, and the latter entered the buggy to a chorus of remonstrances from the other girls. “Oh, don’t you go with him!” cried Rosa. “Your face will be a perfect sight by the time you reach home!” “I really think, Major,” laughed Winthrop, “that maybe you’d better wash the side of your face next to Miss Bartram.” “Don’t you-all worry so much,” responded the Major. “Miss Edith isn’t saying anything, is she? She knows it’s dark and no one’s going to see her face when she gets home. I don’t know what’s coming to the ladies these days. When I was younger they didn’t let a little thing like a grain of smut interfere with a kiss or two.” “Then don’t you let him have more than two, Edith,” said Holly. “You heard what he said.” “Merely a figure of speech, ladies,” replied the Major. “I’ve heard there wasn’t such a thing as a single kiss and I reckon there ain’t such a thing as a pair of ’em; eh, Mr. Winthrop?” “Always come by the dozen, as I understand it,” answered Winthrop. Miss Edith gave a shriek. “I’m powerful glad I’m not riding home with you, Mr. Winthrop!” “Oh, it washes off quite easily, really!”