Sue laughed teasingly. “You’ve grown up with those ideas,” she declared. “Do you remember that once--you were twelve, Phil,--you gave Len Hammond the nosebleed because he called me ‘cotton-top’?” “Your hair is stunning,” said Phil defensively. “And _no_ girl could look better than you do on a horse.” “But imagine riding a horse to a dance,” said Sue. “Who wants to go to dances?” demanded Phil. “The idea of wasting hours getting togged for a confounded silly affair and then more hours attending it--when there’s all outdoors to enjoy!” “Don’t scold,” said Sue. “It’s been ages since I’ve ‘wasted hours’ at a dance. And yesterday I wore out two horses.” Phil suddenly brightened. “Let’s go to Wheaton Hill some afternoon,” he suggested. “And up to Hadbury another day. I want to see the polo-field. Brampton’s going to play Hadbury soon. And there’s a new litter of collies at the St. Ives kennels. We’ll canter over and see ’em.” “How I’ve missed you these two years!” said Sue. “I’ve ridden a lot, of course. But my tennis has suffered. And not a single fish have I caught. The other men--even Bob and Courtney and Len, too--all wait on me when I ride with them or fish. I hate that: I hate being treated like a drawing-room ornament. Now, you, Phil,----” “Can be pretty nearly as rude and selfish as a brother,” broke in Phil. “You’re more like a--a chum,” said Sue. “And so I’m awfully glad to get you back, not a _bit_ spoiled, and not--married.” Phil stared. “Married!” he repeated. “_Me?_” “Hillcrest needs a mistress, Phil.” “Suppose I were to pull a long face and say: ‘Sue, Arbor Lodge needs a master’?” He drew off his cap and stuffed it into the front of his shirt, shook his head vigorously, so that the morning wind could catch at his hair, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow, showing two stout arms as brown as the pony under him. “I’m so homely,” said Sue, “that I’m marriage-proof.” “Sue,”--very earnestly--“I didn’t see a single girl on the other side that I could fall in love with. I guess it’ll have to be an American that takes my mother’s place.” Sue waved her whip. “Down with foreign alliances!” “Oh, there wasn’t anything patriotic about it,” said Phil. “I just didn’t see the girl.” “You’re calloused,” asserted Sue. “You’ve played polo so long that you’ve got a basswood ball for a heart. Here you are, twenty-six, handsome----” “Loyalty, thy name is Sue Townsend!” “And wholesome and good and awfully popular; and rich, too, with such a place, such woods and streams!” “And such a blarney of a little friend,” added Phil. “It’s not blarney,” Sue declared. “No; I leave all that for Larry. Phil, where _did_ you pick him up?” Phil gave a quick glance round at the red-cheeked, red-haired groom riding at the prescribed distance behind. “He was born in Dublin,” said he, grinning, “and I got him in Hongkong. He hasn’t been twenty feet away from me since. The fellows call him my ‘shadow.’”