“Wal,” said her father, “reckon it was fun for you. But you’re growed up now. Marvie ought to have knowed better than to take you to Forlorn River.”

“But we only went to the mouth of the river above Hammell,” protested the boy. “Not over the hills.”

“Why not over the hills?” queried Ina, quickly. “I want to ride everywhere. Next Saturday we’ll go to the lake.”

Mr. Blaine shot a significant glance at his wife, as if to remind her of some prediction he had made, and he got up with a little cough that Ina well remembered.

“Marvie, you’d make a wild tomboy out of your sister,” he said, severely. “You shan’t have no horse an’ buggy next Saturday.”

“But Paw, Ina can’t walk all over,” protested Marvie, getting red in the face. “I’d just as lief walk.”

“Ina will have some one to drive her around,” replied Mr. Blaine.

“Ahuh! That Sewell McAdam fellow, for one, I s’pose,” ejaculated Marvie, in imminent disgust.

“Sewell McAdam? Who is he?” inquired Ina, glancing from Marvie to her father.

“Reckon the boy guessed right that time,” laughed Mr. Blaine. “I forgot to tell you about Sewell. He’s a fine young chap from Klamath. Father’s a friend of mine. Owns the big three C stores. You’ll meet Sewell. I asked him for Sunday dinner.”

“I shall be pleased, of course,” said Ina, dubiously, with her eyes on Marvie. The boy did not show that he would share her pleasure. After supper, in the sitting room, when they were alone except for Dall, Ina put a query to him anent this young man who was coming Sunday.

“He’s a city fellar, Ina,” replied Marvie. “Kind of a willie–boy who puts on style.”

“Don’t you like him, Marvie?”

“Haven’t any reason not to, but you bet I wouldn’t take him fishin’.”

“That’s very conclusive,” said Ina, thoughtfully. “I don’t remember dad inviting young men to dinner Sundays.”

“Ina, I heard somethin’—if you won’t tell,” whispered Marvie, swiftly glancing round. “Dall knows, for she was with me.”

“Cross my heart,” replied Ina, solemnly.

“We heard paw an’ Mr. McAdam talkin’ out by the barn. They had some kind of a big deal on. This McAdam man is the father of Sewell, who’s comin’ Sunday. He’s awful rich. Owns stores. He an’ paw are goin’ into somethin’, an’ you figgered in it.”

“Marvie! What are you saying?” exclaimed Ina in amaze.

“Ask Dall,” returned the boy.

“Ina, I heard pa say if Sewell got sweet on you pretty quick it’d work out fine,” answered Dall, her eyes bright and round with importance.

“Did you tell anyone?” asked Ina.

“I told mother, an’ Kate heard. Mother seemed sort of fussed, like she is so much. Kate chased us out of the kitchen. She was mad as thunder. Kate’s city beau is a friend of this Sewell McAdam.”

“Don’t tell anyone else, please,” said Ina, earnestly.

“I promise,” rejoined the boy, with loving gaze upon her. “But, Ina, if you let this city fellar come courtin’ you, I—I’ll never take you fishin’ again.”