The absolute entente cordiale which had existed between her and Phoebe
from the moment Mrs. Buchanan had presented them to each other in the
dusk-shadowed library, had been extended to include David Kildare. He was
duly appreciative of her almost appealing friendship, chaffed her about
the three governors, depended upon her to further his tumultuous suit,
admired her beauty, insisted upon it in season and out, and initiated her
into the social intricacies of his gay set with the greatest glee.
"I don't trust you one little bit, Caroline Darrah Brown," David broke in
on her moment's silent appreciation of him and his friendliness. "You
look at him kinder partial-like, too."
"Oh, one _must_ admire him, his poems are so lovely! I have watched for
them from the first one years ago. Do you remember the one where he--"
"Don't remember a single line of a single one, and don't want to!
Phoebe's always quoting them at me. She's got a book of 'em. See if I
don't smash him up some day if I have to listen to much more of it."
David's face was a study in the contradictions of a tormented grin.
Caroline eyed him again for a moment across the rose and then they both
laughed delightedly. But David was for the pressing of his point just the
same.
"Dear Daughter of the Three," he pleaded, "can't you help me out?
Mollycoddle him a bit. Do, now, that's a good child! Keep him
'interested', as _she_ calls it! You are quite as good to look at as
Phoebe and are enough more--more,"--and David paused for a word that
would compare Caroline's appeal and Phoebe's brisk challenge.
"Yes, I understand. I really am _more_ so; but how can I help you out if
he never even sees me when I'm there?" And Caroline raised eyes to him
that held a hint of wistfulness in their banter.
"The old mole-eyed grump never sees anybody nor anything. But let's plot
a scheme. This three-handed game doesn't suit me; promise to be good and
sit in. I haven't had Phoebe to myself for the long time. He needs a
heart interest of his own--I'm tired of lending him mine. You're not
busy--that's a sweet girl! Don't make me feel I inherited you for
nothing," said David in a most beguiling voice as he moved a shade nearer
to her.
"I promise, I promise! If you take that tone with me, I'm afraid not to:
but I feel you mistake my powers," and Caroline laid the rose across her
knee and dropped her long lashes over her eyes. "I think I'll fail with
your poet; something tells me it is a vain task. Let's put it in the
hands of the gods. It may interest them."