“It has been a wonderful day, Paul,” said Peg, “and you have been just like you used to.”
“It’s been a jolly day, all right,” said Paul. “And I am awfully glad Joseph showed those fellows how to jump.”
“And you beat Asa out at the last,” exclaimed Peg rapturously. “I think he is just a horrid boy, though he is so big and strong.”
“Well, he _is_ strong, you know, and he is great in football. We never would have beaten the Post but for him.”
“Oh, he can play football all right,” admitted Paul, with something of a grudge. “He’s a little slow, of course, but——”
“But then he is so awfully sure at back. He just tumbled those forwards about. Of course, he spends a lot of time practising.”
“You can’t really be a good player without practice, can you?”
“Oh, I dunno,” said Paul, who had given little attention to football and who in consequence, though giving great promise because of his unusual speed, had not won any great glory on the field that day. “I don’t care much for football anyway.”
“Oh, Paul, I just love it. It’s a wonderful game.”
“Oh, pshaw!” said Paul in contempt of a game in which he did not excel.
“Oh, never mind,” said Peg cheerfully, “we won the jumps anyway. And Joseph was a regular deer in the racing.”
“Wasn’t he?” exclaimed Paul, restored to good humour by the remembrance of his pinto’s achievements at the picnic, where he won premier honours from the field.
“And, Paul, you were good to me,” said Peg shyly when they came to the bars.
“Oh, shucks, Peg!” said Paul, greatly pleased.
“You were, Paul. And that Adelina is just a bold thing.”
“Oh, she isn’t half bad. Rides awfully well.”
“Yes, she does,” acknowledged Peg, “but she has a wonderful pony. And don’t you think that cap she wore was awfully funny?”
“Why! that’s a regular jockey’s cap, she told me.”
“Jockey cap! For a girl!” Peg’s finer sensibilities were obviously offended. She, however, skilfully and lightly turned from distressing and disturbing subjects of conversation to one in which she was more deeply concerned.
“But, Paul, you have never been over at our house once this summer,” she said reproachfully, “and you used to come every week at least.”
“Yes, on some old business or other with Daddy.”
“Well! I don’t call that anything. You never see me—us, I mean. You never play for us. And you’re always so busy. And—and—Paul, you are just forgetting all about us.” This was going a long way for the proud-spirited Peggy.