merrily.
"You sure did. Fact is you never welcomed me like that, even on my returns from Europe... Have you been lonely and blue again? Is that why?"
"Not today," returned Janey. "No, I was just happy and unconscious of it, Dad... I guess maybe I did miss you a lot."
"Well, you can bet I'm glad, whatever it is."
Janey left him in the dining room, too hungry for conversation. Then she delved a little into her mind. She had absolutely forgotten her new role. She was supposed to be very angry with her father, but she wasn't. She had not been in the least lonely for him or homesick. In reality she had skipped about ten years of her life and had met him as a child. Janey's deductions took her back through the eventful day at the tilt with Phil, and then she got no further. It was rather confusing. But at length she assuaged her wounded vanity by accepting her remarkable fine spirits as due to the way she was turning the tables on Phil and her father.
"Maybe I'm kidding myself," murmured Janey, with a snicker. "Ye Gods! Could I have been so happy because he kissed me?"
Janey was wholly at ease again when her father joined her in the living room. He was full of his trip to town, and claimed the ride in--looking the opposite way to that in which they had come--was even more beautiful. Telegraph communications from New York had been eminently satisfactory.
"How's your day been?" he asked, when he had concluded about his own.
"Mine? Oh, rich, immense," replied Janey. "I hope you haven't played any more hob with these cowboys."
"Oh, dear, no. I've scarcely seen them, but once or twice... I did take Ray, and rode out to see Phil's cave. Surprised him. I left Ray below a little way and went on alone."
"You did!" exclaimed Endicott, surprised and pleased. "That was nice of you. What did you think of Phil's cave? I've been there, you know."
"An awful hole! Just suits him to a 'T.' He's a cave man. Don't you overlook that, darling Papa."
"Cave man? Phil Randolph! Why, he's the gentlest and mildest of men."
"Not so you'd notice it. At least for me," replied Janey, giggling. "No, Dad, you're vastly mistaken in Phil's character. He's a bad hombre."
"Did you quarrel?" Endicott probed, his curiosity overcoming his doubt of her.
"Oh, we scrapped as usual. He wasn't at all tickled to see me. Made some idiotic remarks about being a lover of beauty in woman--one woman. Naturally I kidded him, and when he got wise to that he was sore. Well, finally, to prove my interest in his old cave I climbed down in one of his graves. I took the pick and began to dig. Do you know, Dad, he didn't like that a bit."
Endicott let out a hearty laugh. "Janey, you are incorrigible. No wonder he wasn't tickled to see you. Why, he wouldn't let even me dig in one of those holes. Said I might break a piece of precious pottery. Besides in your case he wouldn't like you to soil your clothes and blister your hands."
"I should think he would have liked that," returned Janey. "Once he called me fastidious and elegant. Another time one of the idle rich. He held my hand once and had the nerve to say it was a beautiful useless thing. Well, to go on, he ordered me out of the grave. I paid no attention to him. Then he took hold of the pick, pulled me up till he could reach me. Next he yanked me out. Gentle? You should have seen him. But he let go of me too quick and I stumbled. Like a ninny I fell into his arms. Did he gently set me upon my feet? I should snicker not. This paragon of yours, this nice quiet gentleman, grabbed me and kissed me smack on my mouth--as I never was kissed in my whole life!"
Whereupon Janey's father exploded with mirth. Recovering and seeing her face he apologized contritely.
"Janey, it's just too good," he added. "I think a lot more of Phil for having the nerve to do it. I wonder, now, did that make you so happy?"
"Rot!" exclaimed Janey, with hot cheeks. "It wasn't nerve in him. He just went loco. Then he swore he'd never kissed any girl
"You sure did. Fact is you never welcomed me like that, even on my returns from Europe... Have you been lonely and blue again? Is that why?"
"Not today," returned Janey. "No, I was just happy and unconscious of it, Dad... I guess maybe I did miss you a lot."
"Well, you can bet I'm glad, whatever it is."
Janey left him in the dining room, too hungry for conversation. Then she delved a little into her mind. She had absolutely forgotten her new role. She was supposed to be very angry with her father, but she wasn't. She had not been in the least lonely for him or homesick. In reality she had skipped about ten years of her life and had met him as a child. Janey's deductions took her back through the eventful day at the tilt with Phil, and then she got no further. It was rather confusing. But at length she assuaged her wounded vanity by accepting her remarkable fine spirits as due to the way she was turning the tables on Phil and her father.
"Maybe I'm kidding myself," murmured Janey, with a snicker. "Ye Gods! Could I have been so happy because he kissed me?"
Janey was wholly at ease again when her father joined her in the living room. He was full of his trip to town, and claimed the ride in--looking the opposite way to that in which they had come--was even more beautiful. Telegraph communications from New York had been eminently satisfactory.
"How's your day been?" he asked, when he had concluded about his own.
"Mine? Oh, rich, immense," replied Janey. "I hope you haven't played any more hob with these cowboys."
"Oh, dear, no. I've scarcely seen them, but once or twice... I did take Ray, and rode out to see Phil's cave. Surprised him. I left Ray below a little way and went on alone."
"You did!" exclaimed Endicott, surprised and pleased. "That was nice of you. What did you think of Phil's cave? I've been there, you know."
"An awful hole! Just suits him to a 'T.' He's a cave man. Don't you overlook that, darling Papa."
"Cave man? Phil Randolph! Why, he's the gentlest and mildest of men."
"Not so you'd notice it. At least for me," replied Janey, giggling. "No, Dad, you're vastly mistaken in Phil's character. He's a bad hombre."
"Did you quarrel?" Endicott probed, his curiosity overcoming his doubt of her.
"Oh, we scrapped as usual. He wasn't at all tickled to see me. Made some idiotic remarks about being a lover of beauty in woman--one woman. Naturally I kidded him, and when he got wise to that he was sore. Well, finally, to prove my interest in his old cave I climbed down in one of his graves. I took the pick and began to dig. Do you know, Dad, he didn't like that a bit."
Endicott let out a hearty laugh. "Janey, you are incorrigible. No wonder he wasn't tickled to see you. Why, he wouldn't let even me dig in one of those holes. Said I might break a piece of precious pottery. Besides in your case he wouldn't like you to soil your clothes and blister your hands."
"I should think he would have liked that," returned Janey. "Once he called me fastidious and elegant. Another time one of the idle rich. He held my hand once and had the nerve to say it was a beautiful useless thing. Well, to go on, he ordered me out of the grave. I paid no attention to him. Then he took hold of the pick, pulled me up till he could reach me. Next he yanked me out. Gentle? You should have seen him. But he let go of me too quick and I stumbled. Like a ninny I fell into his arms. Did he gently set me upon my feet? I should snicker not. This paragon of yours, this nice quiet gentleman, grabbed me and kissed me smack on my mouth--as I never was kissed in my whole life!"
Whereupon Janey's father exploded with mirth. Recovering and seeing her face he apologized contritely.
"Janey, it's just too good," he added. "I think a lot more of Phil for having the nerve to do it. I wonder, now, did that make you so happy?"
"Rot!" exclaimed Janey, with hot cheeks. "It wasn't nerve in him. He just went loco. Then he swore he'd never kissed any girl
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