Excerpt
CHAPTER I A BOWL OF ROSES
In the morning-room of a large, old-fashioned country-house, situated a few miles outside the city of New Orleans, sat a young man arranging a bowl of roses. Beside him stood a pretty girl, in riding costume, whose face bore a trace of petulance.
"Do make haste, Cousin Ridge, and finish with those stupid flowers. You have wasted half an hour of this glorious morning over them already!" she exclaimed.
"Wasted?" rejoined Ridge Norris, inquiringly, and looking up with a smile. "I thought you were too fond of flowers to speak of time spent in showing them off to best advantage as 'wasted.'"
"Yes, of course I'm fond of them," answered Spence Cuthbert, who was from Kentucky on a Mardi Gras visit to Dulce Norris, her school-chum and cousin by several removes, "but not fond enough to break an engagement on account of them."
"An engagement?"
"Certainly. You promised to go riding with me this morning."
"And so I will in a minute, when I have finished with these roses."
"But I want you to come this instant."
"And leave a duty unperformed?" inquired Ridge, teasingly.
"Yes; now."
"In a minute."
"No. I won't wait another second."
With this the girl flung herself from the room, wearing a very determined expression on her flushed face.
Ridge rose to follow her, and then resumed his occupation as a clatter of hoofs on the magnolia-bordered driveway announced the arrival of a horseman.
"She won't go now that she has a caller to entertain," he said to himself.
But in this he was mistaken; for within a minute another clatter of hoofs, mingled with the sound of laughing voices, gave notice of a departure, and, glancing from an open window, Ridge saw Spence Cuthbert ride gayly past in company with a young man whose face seemed familiar, but whose name he could not recall.
As they swept by both looked up laughing, while the horseman lifted his hat in a bow that was almost too sweeping to be polite.
"What did you say Ridge was doing?" he asked, as they passed beyond earshot.
"Arranging a bowl of roses," answered Spence.
"Nice occupation for a man," sneered the other. "And he preferred doing that to riding with you?"
"So it seems."
"Well, I am not wholly surprised, for, as I remember him, he was a soft-hearted, Miss Nancy sort of a boy, who was always coddling sick kittens, or something of the kind, and never would go hunting because he couldn't bear to kill things. He apparently hadn't a drop of sporting blood in him, and I recall having to thrash him on one occasion because he objected to my shooting a bird. I thought of course, though, that he had outgrown all such nonsense by this time."
"There is no nonsense about him!" flashed out Spence, warmly; and then, to her companion's amazement, the girl began a most spirited defence of her absent cousin, during which she denounced in such bitter terms the taking of innocent lives under the name of "sport" that the other was finally thankful to change the conversation to a more congenial topic.
In the mean time Dulce Norris had entered the morning-room to find out why Spence had gone to ride with Herman Dodley instead of with Ridge, as had been arranged....