a glass of wine to her lips, kissed the brim, and gave it to Willard Frost with an indescribably graceful swaying gesture of her whole form.
"Here's to your pastoral sweetheart, the sorceress, sovereign of the South."
He seized the glass eagerly, drank, and returned it with a profound salutation.
The consummate worldlings were surprised to hear Miss Bell answer:
"Thank you, but how much more appropriate would be, 'Here's to a Fool in Spots!'"
Willard replied, with a shake of the head:
"Ah, no, you have too much 'snap' to be called a fool in any sense, besides, you only need being disciplined—you'll be enjoying life by and by. When I first met our friend Milburn he was saying the same thing, but where is he now?"
Here Miss Baxter laid her pretty jeweled hand warningly upon his arm.
"Come, you would not be guilty of divulging such a delicious secret, would you?"
He treated the matter mostly as a joke, and returned with a tantalizing touch in his speech:
"Robert didn't mean to do it. We must forgive."
Cherokee looked puzzled as she caught the exchange of significant smiles. She spoke, as always, in her own soft, syllabled tongue.
