“Aw, you know what I want. You could show you were a good sport once in a while. At least, be human. But instead of acting like a cousin, you act—and Aunt Grace acts—as if I were a pestilence. I want to be friends and neither of you will let me.” Gordon had planted himself in front of Madelaine in such a manner that she was unable to pass easily. But she was not afraid, merely annoyed. She was willowy and fragile beside him but her calm, dark eyes searched his own bravely. “We can be friends, if that’s all you wish. But so long as you annoy mother, you annoy me. And that’s all I have to say.” “You think I am a hell-buster, don’t you, Madge? You—even you!—won’t give me the benefit of the doubt.” Along this attack, Gordon knew he could always score, if he acted sufficiently persistent and apparently sincere. The quick gleam in those expressive dark eyes showed when he had scored now. “Gordon,” cried the girl, “why do you persist in coming up here, week after week and month after month, talking and acting as you do? What is it you want?” “You’re the only girl who ever made me feel that if she were friendly, really friendly, I could pull up and amount to something. Is it any wonder I should be interested in sticking around? When a guy has met that kind of girl, he’s on the outs with every one unless he can have her to play with. And that’s you! And the truth!” “But I can’t play around with any one. I’m attending school. And next spring mother and I are going abroad——” “Every one plays ’round part of the time, Madge!” Gordon came closer as the girl shrank back. “I’ve been thinking about you nearly every day since I met you, Madge. I’m in a rotten way. Instead of helping me, you make it worse. Is that fair? When a fellow might go square if he had the chance, is it fair to make it as hard as you can?” “I don’t want to make it hard for any one, Gordon. But mother made me promise I wouldn’t encourage you and I should keep that promise.” “A bad promise is better broken than kept, Madge. And what kind of a promise is it anyway, when it injures and hurts somebody?” This sort of argument, harped upon long enough, would have the girl’s defenses down. “Please, Gordon, let me pass. People are watching.” “Madge, are you afraid of me?” “Of course I’m not afraid of you!” “Get into the car then. For an hour let me talk to you—while we’re driving, I mean. I’ll have you back by eight o’clock. I promise it, faithfully. You’ve never heard my side of the story, Madge. Until you do, it’s not fair to condemn me. Not on your mother’s say-so.” “I can’t! I just can’t!” Gordon’s face assumed the proper recklessness. “All right, if that’s the way you feel about it. But next time you hear of me raising hell don’t blame anybody but yourself. Didn’t you ever have the feeling that no one care about you—what you did, or what became of you? No, of course you haven’t——” “Gord! Come back! Don’t go off feeling so!”