“And you sit there and laugh!” he fumed. “Forgive me, David! But it does sound funny. You talk about _letting_ me do this and that! As if you were my master! It is enough to make anybody laugh.” “So you think it is perfectly right, I suppose, for you to go round with anybody and everybody, without reference to me!” “That was the agreement,” she replied. “It was a one-sided agreement, anyway,” he grumbled. “It left me nowhere.” “I am afraid no agreement would stand,” Polly returned. “I only wish you could see things from my viewpoint.” “Oh, yes! You are on Don’t-Care-Hill. That’s your viewpoint! If I were there, it wouldn’t make any difference to me what you did.” “So you think I don’t care!” Polly shook her head with a queer little smile. “But what is the use of going over all this again!” she cried. “How came you to stay over for the fête?” She was sorry the instant the words had crossed her lips fearing what it might lead to. “Marietta wished it for one thing. And you don’t suppose I would allow you to come down here without me, where I couldn’t keep an eye on you--where--oh, darn it! I’m not going to let you go round with Ely and his crowd--not if I can help myself!” “Tell me about your trip down,” said Polly, ignoring his answer. “There isn’t anything to tell,” sulked David. “Guess I’ll get Russell to take me up to your camp some day,” said Polly quietly. “I should like to see if there isn’t something on that long road worth talking about.” The young man’s face grew dark. “You’d better try it!” he cried. “If you ever do, you’ll see me when you get there! And you’ll hear me, too!” “Why should it be any worse for me to ride up there with him than it was for you to drive down here with Marietta?” For an instant David stared, a singular, astonished expression on his face. Then it changed. “Oh! you’re jealous of Marietta, are you?” he sneered. “No, David,” she answered, “not a bit. But one looks to me about the same as the other.” “Well, it isn’t. I was speaking of coming, and Marietta said she wanted some things at the house, and I told her I would drive her down--just a sort of business arrangement.” “Yes,” laughed Polly, “I guess that’s a good name for it, just a business arrangement.” She laughed again, a queer little laugh that made David look at her in a puzzled way. “You know I don’t care anything about Marietta Converse,” he said. “And you know that I care nothing for Russell Ely,” returned Polly. “Huh! Looks like it!” scorned David. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that a thousand times. I am tired of being doubted and watched. If you ever reach the point of trusting me, I will--” As she arose a little group of merry young folks came chattering down the path. One girl spied Polly and David. “Oh, come on, you two!” she called. “We’re going for a row.” They halted opposite. “Give you just three seconds!” cried Clay Boynton, pulling out his watch and striking a match.