Her Prairie Knight
speeches!" Beatrice's laugh had a faint tinge of chagrin.
"Wouldn't pretty speeches get monotonous, too?" Keith's eyes were laughing at her.
"Yours wouldn't," she retorted, spitefully, and immediately bit her lip and hoped he would not consider that a bid for more pretty speeches.
"Be'trice, dis hopper is awf-lly wilted!" came a sepulchral whisper from Dorman.
Keith sighed, and went and baited the hook again. When he returned to Beatrice, his mood had changed.
"I want you to promise"
"I never make promises of any sort, Mr. Cameron." Beatrice had fallen back upon her airy tone, which was her strongest weapon of defense—unless one except her liquid-air smile.
"I wasn't thinking of asking much," Keith went on coolly. "I only wanted to ask you not to worry about that leasing business."
"Are you worrying about it, Mr. Cameron?"
"That isn't the point. No, I can't say I expect to lose sleep over it. I hope you will dismiss anything I may have said from your mind."
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