“Then it is my mission to improve your taste,” she insisted, frowning down his amendment as unworthy of note, “Don’t you _want_ to like the things I like?” “Yes,” he answered, obediently. “And when you know it will give me twice as much fun if you’re there with me, you’ll want to come to the Adirondacks, won’t you?” “If it’d make any sort of a hit with you, Dey,” he answered in full honesty, “I’d spend those two weeks in a contagion ward. An’ you know it. But what in thunder is there to do, up in the wilderness?” “We can go on camping trips, for one thing,” she said eagerly, “and cook our own meals out in the forest and sit around camp fires and--” “I did all those things when I was workin’ on the section gang eighteen years ago,” interpolated Caleb, “An’ got one-eighty-five a day for doin’ it. It didn’t get much enthoosiasm out of me then. Maybe it’s better fun though when you have to pay _ho_tel rates for the priv’lege. Any more aloorments?” “A _great_ many,” said she coldly. “But I shall punish you by not telling you any of them. You haven’t seen Miss Standish since the day we went to the Arareek Club?” “No,” he answered, too accustomed to her quick changes of theme to see anything significant in the careless question, “But I hope to see quite a lot of her this summer. She’s stayin’ late in town. An’ it’ll be lonesome for me after you’re gone. I guess she an’ I’ll get better acquainted before fall.” “You still have that--plan--you spoke of?” she answered, speaking low and hurriedly. “Sure!” he answered, “I don’t let go of plans, once I’ve took the trouble to make ’em. I’ll let you know how I come out. But there ain’t much doubt.” He checked himself, remembering all at once how a similar vaunt had been received by Desirée a few weeks earlier. But now, to his covert glance of apprehension, the girl’s delicate face showed no sign of resentment. He noticed, however, for the first time, that her aspect had but a shade of its usual fresh buoyancy; that the soft rounded cheek was paler than was its wont. “You’re lookin’ all run down, Dey!” he cried, in quick concern, “This hot weather’s hurtin’ you. It’s high time you went away to--” “Yes,” she interrupted wearily, “It’s time I went away.” CHAPTER XVII THE DUST DAYS July held Granite in a hot, dry grip that parched the leaves and grass into a grayish green and with every vagrant breeze set the dust devils a-dancing.