"Suppose I make him pay? Pay ransom to get you back. I wonder at how much he'd value you."
"He wouldn't need to ransom me. I'd go back of my own accord."
"Not if I won't let you! Come, let us find the tarn, and then,—I don't know—I may throw you in."
"What is a tarn, really?" and Dorothy rose and walked with Crosby toward the ravines.
Only about an acre of White Birches was lawn. Once off that, the grounds became almost like woodland. There were brooks, tiny falls, hillocks, and sometimes deep undergrowth. Much had been made by clever landscape gardeners, but, wherever possible, the old natural beauties were there. Dorothy had seen little of it all. One brief, previous visit had shown her only the gardens and lawns near the house.
She said as much to Crosby, and he replied: "Then old Just will give it to me, for sure!"
"Let's go back," said Dorothy, frightened as they found themselves farther and farther from the house.
But Crosby walked slowly on, and answered her earlier remark.
"Don't you know what a tarn is? Don't you remember Tennyson's line, 'a glen, gray bowlder and black tarn'?"
"No, but it sounds like Hallowe'en! Is it?"
Crosby laughed out. "You kiddy! Is that what that line makes you think of? By Jove I wish it were Hallowe'en! Maybe I wouldn't try my fate with you!"
"You couldn't; my fate is settled. But I'm going to make Justin let me have a Hallowe'en party! Won't it be fun! Now, show me the tarn."
"That's it,—before you."
"Why, that's only a pool of water! Not clear water, at that."
"But that's all a tarn is,—a pool of water. But if it's deep and black and generally shuddery-looking, it can be called a tarn."
"Well, I don't think much of your old tarn. Come on, let's go back."
"I know why. Because the sun has almost set, and the air is cool and this place is gloomy, and so,—it makes you begin to think of how Justin will scold you!"
Crosby's voice was almost triumphant, and Dorothy looked at him in surprise.
"Why, one would think you were glad I'm to be scolded!"
"I am."
"You are! Why?"
"Because you are to be scolded for having run away with me. With me!" Crosby added, exultantly. "I'd be glad to have you often scolded for that!"
Dorothy turned and flashed her dark eyes at him. "Do you suppose for a minute that Justin will really scold me? Indeed, he won't! Nobody scolds me unless I choose to be scolded! If he tries; it, I shall smile at him. You can't scold a smiling person, can you?"
Apparently Justin Arnold couldn't, for within five minutes of the runaways' return, Dorothy was nestled into a cushioned settee, and her fiancé was striving to please her somewhat capricious appetite for "icy cakes,—the creamy-inside kind."
Chapter III.
May and December
"I wish I were three people!" exclaimed Leila Duane; "I want to walk and motor and play golf all at once."
It was after luncheon the next day, and the house-party congregated for a moment on the terrace, before breaking up into smaller groups. The air was full of that October warmth, so much more life-giving and blood-stirring than even the early days of spring.
"It's utterly absurd, Dorothy," said Mabel Crane, "for you to think of getting married! You look about fourteen to-day!"
Dorothy was in walking rig of greenish tweeds. She wore a white silk blouse with a scarlet tie and a soft green felt hat with scarlet quill. Her skirt was ankle length and her low russet shoes showed a glimpse of scarlet stockings.
"I'm going to be fourteen as long as I can," she returned, smiling; "soon enough I shall have to become Justin's age,—what is it, Just? Sixty?"
"No, he's only forty," put in Miss Abby, seriously; "and you mustn't tease him about it, Dorothy."
"Oh, is he sensitive?" and Dorothy pretended to be embarrassed. "Why, I'm sure you look quite youthful, dear." And going to Arnold's side, she laid her hand on his shoulder, and scrutinized his face. The contrast was marked. Though a fairly handsome man, Justin Arnold looked his full age, and his stern, set face looked old indeed, beside Dorothy's laughing dimples and shining eyes. "And any way, when we're married, I think I won't become Justin's age,—but make him become mine. How'd you like to be twenty-two, Justy?"
"I'll be in my second childhood, if you say so," returned Arnold, and Dorothy rewarded him for this pretty speech with a little tweak of his graying hair.
"You seem to know how to manage him, all right," laughed Mrs. Crane, "so I suppose you are old enough to be married, after all. What are you going to wear at your wedding? A short skirt and Tam O'Shanter?"
"White, I suppose; but I do think it's awfully hackneyed! I wish I could wear some bright color."
"Why, Dorothy, how you talk," exclaimed her mother, who was always shocked at the slightest unconventionality.
"She's right," said Emory Gale; "one does get awfully tired of a white-robed bride. Now a lot of gay colors,—Scotch plaid for choice,—would be awfully fetching."
"How foolish men are," said Mrs. Crane, with an air of saying something new; "of course your gown'll be white, Dorothy; ivory satin, I suppose, with an embroidered train, and a priceless lace veil."
"I suppose so," said Dorothy, with a resigned air. "I say, Justin, if I've got to have that wedding dress, and so soon, can't I run away and play with Campbell just a little while? He has asked me to."
"Yes, go," said Arnold, frowning; "go and stay as long as you like! What do I care?"
"Come on, then," said Dorothy, tucking her hand through Crosby's arm.
But now, perhaps because of his cousin's frown, Crosby did not seem so anxious for the walk. "I was only fooling," he said.
"But I wasn't," persisted Dorothy; "well, if you won't go, who will accompany me for a little stroll?"
Three men started toward her at once. Arnold himself was the first one; Emory Gale stepped forward, smiling; and with a slightly hesitating step, Ernest Chapin came toward Dorothy and bowed gravely.
"Why, Mr. Chapin," cried the little coquette, "I'd rather stroll with you than anybody. Come on."
The two walked away, and Arnold's brow cleared. He was quite willing Dorothy should walk with his quiet-mannered and rather dull secretary, but he did not want her to go frisking about with gay young men of her own set.
"She's a case,"
