It was only the sort of knock-down that I
must expect from time to time. Within a day or two you'll see me riding
over.... Ban, stand over there in that light.... What's that you've got
on?"
"What, Miss Camilla?"
"That necktie. It isn't in your usual style. Where did you get it?"
"Sent to Angelica City for it. Don't you like it?" he returned, trying
for the nonchalant air, but not too successfully.
"Not as well as your spotty butterflies," answered the woman jealously.
"That's nonsense, though. Don't mind me, Ban," she added with a wry
smile. "Plain colors are right for you. Browns, or blues, or reds, if
they're not too bright. And you've tied it very well. Did it take you
long to do it?"
Reddening and laughing, he admitted a prolonged and painful session
before his glass. Miss Van Arsdale sighed. It was such a faint,
abandoning breath of regret as might come from the breast of a mother
when she sees her little son in his first pride of trousers.
"Go out and say good-night to Miss Welland," she ordered, "and tell her
to go to bed. I've taken a sleeping powder."
Banneker obeyed. He rode home slowly and thoughtfully. His sleep was
sound enough that night.
Breakfast-getting processes did not appeal to him when he awoke in the
morning.
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