l, what of it? What does that prove? I could say the same
thing of Miss Ross, Miss Dangerfield, and even of Miss Lawrence. I am
not so conceited as to imagine these charming girls are in love with us
because they laugh, smile, and seem to be pleased at our attempts to
entertain them.

Carter could make claim that Miss Harding was in love with him on the
same plea. And speaking of Carter, I should like your opinion of him.
I'll tell you frankly I don't like the way he acts.

Mind you, Smith, I'm not going to say anything against Carter, and I
shall not permit you to. Carter has as much right to fall in love with
Grace Harding as we have, and for that matter I'm afraid he has more
claim in that direction. If you will recollect, it was Carter who
introduced us to Miss Harding.

I have no idea when and where he met her. Carter is a chap who attends
to his own affairs and who does not permit others to interfere in them.
It is not likely he will tell us, and I shall never ask him.

Mr. Harding sometimes calls him "Jim." That goes to prove that Carter
has known the Hardings for a long time. Harding once spoke of knowing
Carter's father.

That is not what worries me. It is Carter's air and whole attitude which
puts me on guard. Carter must know, John Henry Smith, that we pay an
unusual amount of attention to Miss Harding, and sometimes I almost
imagine he has surmised what I have confessed to you, but it does not
seem to annoy or concern him in the least. It is as if he knew just how
far we can go. It strikes me as the confidence bred of assured
supremacy, but, of course, I may be in error, and sincerely hope I am,
for your sake as well as mine.

Carter and Miss Harding are much together. They take long walks, and
both seem very happy in one another's company.

I stumbled across them last evening while looking for a lost ball in the
old graveyard. They were on a scat under a weeping willow tree, and were
sitting very close together. Carter was reading something and she was
looking over his shoulder. They were laughing when they looked up and
saw me poking about in the grass with my club.

"Hello, Smith!" drawled Carter, looking at me through that monocle of
his. "Lost your ball? How many times must I tell you that the proper way
to play this hole is to drive over this sacred spot and not into it?"

Miss Harding drew slightly away from him when she saw me--at least I
imagined so--and smiled and looked innocent as could