Hawker's face gloomed, and he said, "Well, it might be plain to you, you infernal cat, but that doesn't prove that all those old hens can see it." "I tell you that if they look twice at you they can't fail to see it. And it's bad, too. Very bad. What's the matter with you? Haven't you ever been in love before?" "None of your business," replied Hawker. Hollanden thought upon this point for a time. "Well," he admitted finally, "that's true in a general way, but I hate to see you managing your affairs so stupidly." Rage flamed into Hawker's face, and he cried passionately, "I tell you it is none of your business!" He suddenly confronted the other man. Hollanden surveyed this outburst with a critical eye, and then slapped his knee with emphasis. "You certainly have got it--a million times worse than I thought. Why, you--you--you're heels over head." "What if I am?" said Hawker, with a gesture of defiance and despair. Hollanden saw a dramatic situation in the distance, and with a bright smile he studied it. "Say," he exclaimed, "suppose she should not go to the picnic to-morrow? She said this morning she did not know if she could go. Somebody was expected from New York, I think. Wouldn't it break you up, though! Eh?" "You're so dev'lish clever!" said Hawker, with sullen irony. Hollanden was still regarding the distant dramatic situation. "And rivals, too! The woods must be crowded with them. A girl like that, you know. And then all that money! Say, your rivals must number enough to make a brigade of militia. Imagine them swarming around! But then it doesn't matter so much," he went on cheerfully; "you've got a good play there. You must appreciate them to her--you understand?--appreciate them kindly, like a man in a watch-tower. You must laugh at them only about once a week, and then very tolerantly--you understand?--and kindly, and--and appreciatively." "You're a colossal ass, Hollie!" said Hawker. "You----" "Yes, yes, I know," replied the other peacefully; "a colossal ass. Of course." After looking into the distance again, he murmured: "I'm worried about that picnic. I wish I knew she was going. By heavens, as a matter of fact, she must be made to go!" "What have you got to do with it?" cried the painter, in another sudden outburst. "There! there!" said Hollanden, waving his hand. "You fool! Only a spectator, I assure you." Hawker seemed overcome then with a deep dislike of himself. "Oh, well, you know, Hollie, this sort of thing----" He broke off and gazed at the trees. "This sort of thing---- It----" "How?" asked Hollanden. "Confound you for a meddling, gabbling idiot!" cried Hawker suddenly. Hollanden replied, "What did you do with that violet she dropped at the side of the tennis court yesterday?" CHAPTER V.