The Colonel of the Red Huzzars Part 15

"What need for Was.h.i.+ngton," said I, "since we are here?"

"True! It's always the people that make the place," she laughed.

"Then you like Dornlitz as well as Was.h.i.+ngton?"

"Yes, lately."

"If I were at all conceited I would guess that 'lately' meant----"

"Yes?" she asked.

"But as I'm not conceited I won't guess."

"I'm afraid it's not quite the same, then, as in Was.h.i.+ngton!"

I made no reply.

"There, you would have been ready to believe I followed you intentionally."

"Did you ever do that?" I asked.

She laughed. "We are quits now."

"Then I may ride with you?"

"Surely--why do you think I overtook you?"

I bowed to my horse's neck. "I am flattered," I said.

"You ought to be, sir."

I looked at her quickly. It was said, it seemed to me, a bit sharply; but she gave me only the usual mocking smile.

"Where shall we go?" I asked.

"You have no choice?"

"None--all roads are alike delightful now. Besides, you forget I came here only two days ago; this is my first ride since then."

"Then, suppose we go out by the Forge and around by the hill road above the Palace?"

"You must be the guide," I replied.

"Come along, then; we turn to the right here."

"Only"----I began.

"Oh! I'll have you back in time for breakfast," she cut in. "That was what you meant?"

"Your Ladys.h.i.+p is a mind reader."

"Nonsense! I'm human enough to have an appet.i.te, too."

"Perhaps there is an inn on the way," I suggested. (There was none six years ago.)

She shook her head. "There's nothing to eat before Dornlitz, if we go that route."

"Some day we must find one that has a breakfast on it," said I.

"There are several; I know them well," she said.

"Good; and you will take me to them?"

"It will be jolly."

"I am very lucky to have you in Dornlitz," I said gratefully.

She smiled sweetly. "Maybe I'm lucky, too," she said.

It brought me up with a jerk. It was folly to be serious with her--she was only bantering as usual.

"It's none of my affair, of course," I said with a.s.sumed sadness, "but I would like to know how many poor devils have gone down before that smile in the last six years."

"You mean?"

"That you're the most consummate coquette I know."

"Is that a compliment?" she asked.

"That depends."

"Upon what?"

"Upon the way you use your power."

She hesitated a moment. "Have I ever used it improperly to your knowledge?" she asked.

I dodged the question. "You admit the power, then?"

"I admit nothing, except that I do not like to be called a coquette."

I saw she was in earnest here; there was almost a choke in her voice.

"But I would not have you otherwise," I objected.

She shook her bead. "You say that only because you think you hurt me."

"Don't you know your bright and happy disposition is a thing beyond price?" I argued.