The Call of the Cumberlands

Her eyes, after holding his for a moment, fell to the hand which still

imprisoned her own. She shook her head, not in anger, but with a manner

of gentle denial, until he released her fingers and stepped back.

"You are a dear, Wilfred," she comforted, "and I couldn't manage to

get on without you, but you aren't marriageable--at least, not yet."

"Why not?" he argued. "I've stood back and twirled my thumbs all

through your début winter. I've been Patience without the

comfort of a pedestal. Now, will you give me three minutes to show you

that you are not acting fairly, or nicely at all?"

"Duck!" warned the girl, and once more they fell silent in the sheer

physical delight of two healthy young animals, clean-blooded and sport-

loving, as the tall jib swept down; the "high side" swept up, and the

boat hung for an exhilarating moment on the verge of capsizing. As it

righted itself again, like the craft of a daring airman banking the

pylons, the girl gave him a bright nod. "Now, go ahead," she acceded,

"you have three minutes to put yourself in nomination as the exemplar

of your age and times."