The Call of the Cumberlands

"I," announced Miss Lescott, promptly, "should also lick my fingers."

Samson laughed, and looked up. A man had come out onto the verandah

from the inside, and was approaching the table. He was immaculately

groomed, and came forward with the deference of approaching a throne,

yet as one accustomed to approaching thrones. His smile was that of

pleased surprise.

The mountaineer recognized Farbish, and, with a quick hardening of the

face, he recalled their last meeting. If Farbish should presume to renew

the acquaintanceship under these circumstances, Samson meant to rise

from his chair, and strike him in the face. George Lescott's sister

could not be subjected to such meetings. Yet, it was a tribute to his

advancement in good manners that he dreaded making a scene in her

presence, and, as a warning, he met Farbish's pleasant smile with a look

of blank and studied lack of recognition. The circumstances out of which

Farbish might weave unpleasant gossip did not occur to Samson. That they

were together late in the evening, unchaperoned, at a road-house whose

reputation was socially dubious, was a thing he did not realize. But

Farbish was keenly alive to the possibilities of the situation. He chose

to construe the Kentuckian's blank expression as annoyance at being

discovered, a sentiment he could readily understand. Adrienne Lescott,

following her companion's eyes, looked up, and to the boy's astonishment

nodded to the new-comer, and called him by name.

"Mr. Farbish," she laughed, with mock confusion and total innocence of

the fact that her words might have meaning, "don't tell on us."

"I never tell things, my dear lady," said the newcomer. "I have dwelt

too long in conservatories to toss pebbles. I'm afraid, Mr. South, you

have forgotten me. I'm Farbish, and I had the pleasure of meeting you"

--he paused a moment, then with a pointed glance added--"at the Manhattan

Club, was it not?"

"It was not," said Samson, promptly. Farbish looked his surprise, but

was resolved to see no offense, and, after a few moments of affable

and, it must be acknowledged, witty conversation, withdrew to his own

table.

"Where did you meet that man?" demanded Samson, fiercely, when he and

the girl were alone again.

"Oh, at any number of dinners and dances. His sort is tolerated for

some reason." She paused, then, looking very directly at the

Kentuckian, inquired, "And where did you meet him?"

"Didn't you hear him say the Manhattan Club?"

"Yes, and I knew that he was lying."