“You are of too much value to your friends to expect their unconcern in what affects you so seriously. Even I am anxious, you see,” continued Donald, speaking quietly. “Even you? Of all persons in the world least interested, or ought to be. Since when have you become responsible for my actions?” “Since I learned to care for you more than all others.” “Mr. Bartram, you are melodramatic. I shall not listen to you any longer,” said Tibby, a flush dyeing her cheeks as she gathered up the discarded apron and hung it up. “Will you not shorten your ride and come home before the storm?” Donald asked persistently. “I shall not measure the length of my rides by your tape measure,” retorted Tibby, tossing her head, while the crimson spot on her cheek deepened; “neither shall I let you accompany me, even if you rode behind me. Your presence would mar all my pleasure.” Tibby felt the tactless impertinence of her words, and her eyes fell beneath the gray ones fixed questioningly upon her. “That’s pretty severe, if you mean it,” Donald replied, speaking with great deliberation. “Thank you for your frank manner of telling truths, however. It is good of you. One would rather be hit straight in the forehead than in the back. Is it George Eliot that says, ‘Truth has rough flavors if we bite it through’?” “Why don’t you get angry with me?” Tibby tapped the floor impatiently with the toe of her boot. “Because you are trying to make me so, and besides, it isn’t my year to be angry,” he said with a drawl, his gray eyes still upon her. “O, you insufferable prig!” exclaimed the girl desperately. “As if the man ever lived who didn’t get angry. Tell me, were you never angry?” “Yes, I think so—once,” he drawled. “Yes, now I reflect upon the matter, I remember I was once, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I’d rather not repeat it, even to please you, Miss Tibby.” The girl turned from him petulantly. “I think it would please me very much,” she said. “Such even tempers are abominable. Good-by!” And Tibby backed out of the room, waving her hand dramatically toward him. “Dryden tells us to ‘Beware the fury of a patient man,’ and I will run before your wrath breaks forth.” “Is Tibby more perverse than usual this morning?” Alice asked as Donald buttoned up his coat preparatory to departure. “Yes, in tempting Providence by riding to the fort this morning. If I am not very much mistaken, we are to have a small blizzard before night.” “O! I hope not,” sighed Mrs. Wylie. “I have never experienced one, but Alice has been telling me of blizzards, and of people perishing in them not far from their own doors. I cannot realize such a thing possible.” “Wait until you’ve seen one,” said Donald soberly. He shook his head as he stepped out of doors. “Tell that wilful girl to take no chances,” he said, turning back. “There’s surely a storm coming. She will not listen to me.”