When Dan first caught sight of Betty she was riding in a network of sun and shade, her face lifted to the bit of blue sky that showed between the tree-tops. At the sound of his horse she threw a startled look behind her, and then, drawing aside from the sunken ruts in the “corduroy” road, waited, smiling, until he galloped up. “Why, it's never you!” she exclaimed, surprised. “Well, that's not my fault, Betty,” he gayly returned. “If I had my way, I assure you it would be always I. You mustn't blame a fellow for his ill luck, you know.” Then he laid his hand on her bridle and faced her sternly. “Look here, Betty, you haven't been treating me right,” he said. She threw out a deprecating little gesture. “Do I need to put on more humility?” she questioned, humbly. “Is it respect that I have failed in, sir?” “Oh, bosh!” he interposed, rudely. “I want to know why you went riding three afternoons with Champe--it wasn't fair of you, you know.” Betty sighed sadly. “No one has ever asked me before why I went riding with Champe,” she confessed, “and the mighty secret has quite gnawed into my heart.” “Share it with me,” begged Dan, gallantly, “only I warn you that I shall have no mercy upon Champe.” “Poor Champe,” said Betty. “At least he went riding with you three afternoons--lucky Champe!” “Ah, so he did; and must I tell you why?” He nodded. “You shan't go home until you do,” he declared grimly. Betty reached up and plucked a handful of aspen leaves, scattering them upon the road. “By what right, O horse-taming Hector (isn't that the way they talk in Homer?)” “By the right of the strongest, O fair Helena (it's the way they talk in translations of Homer).” “How very learned you are!” sighed Betty. “How very lovely you are!” sighed Dan. “And you will really force me to tell you?” she asked. “For your own sake, don't let it come to that,” he replied. “But are you sure that you are strong enough to hear it?” “I am strong enough for anything,” he assured her, “except suspense.” “Well, if I must, then let me whisper it--I went because--” she drew back, “I implore you not to uproot the forest in your wrath.” “Speak quickly,” urged Dan, impatiently. “I went because--brace yourself--I went because he asked me.” “O Betty!” he cried, and caught her hand. “O Dan!” she laughed, and drew her hand away. “You deserve to be whipped,” he went on sternly. “How dare you play with the green-eyed monster I'm wearing on my sleeve? Haven't you heard his growls, madam?” “He's a pretty monster,” said Betty. “I should like to pat him.” “Oh, he needs to be gently stroked, I tell you.” “Does he wake often--poor monster?” Dan lowered his abashed eyes to the road. “Well, that--ah, that depends--” he began awkwardly. “Ah, that depends upon your fancies,” finished Betty, and rode on rapidly. It was a moment before he came up with her, and when he did so his face was flushed. “Do you mind about my fancies, Betty?” he asked humbly.