Forlorn River. Zane Grey

be sociable, Ina. What’s a little hand holding?” he urged.

      “It doesn’t amount to much, but I haven’t any desire for it,” she said, edging away.

      “Say, I may strike you as pretty thick, but I’m not that big a fool,” he returned, frowning.

      “As what?” queried Ina.

      “Why—to believe you’re that uppish, when you’ve been away for years at school among a lot of Tom, Dick and Harrys. Besides, it’s a bad start for us if you’re to be—if we’re—if things are—”

      Ina’s grave questioning gaze brought him to a floundering halt.

      “Mr. McAdam, you are laboring under some mistake,” said Ina. “We—if you mean you and I—have not made any kind of a start. Come, let us return to the house.”

      He accompanied her sulkily. Ina was quick to give him an opportunity to say good-by and make his departure. But he carried his petulence even into the presence of her father and mother, now sitting on the porch with other visitors, of whom Mr. Setter was one. Ina was relieved to join them. A few minutes later Kate and her escort drove into the yard. Presently Ina excused herself and went to her room.

      An hour’s pondering alleviated her anger and disgust, but she did not intend to endure any more afternoons like this one. She did not feel sure of her father’s motive, but his action had been rather pointed. Ina had dim recollections of the trials of country girls whose fathers’ wishes were the law. She saw that the only course for her was to assert herself at once. Accordingly, when the company had departed and she was again in the presence of the family she addressed her father.

      “Dad, why did you all leave me alone with that Mr. McAdam?”

      “Wha-at!” ejaculated Mr. Blaine, and when she repeated her query he said: “Reckon Sewell was callin’ on you.”

      “But I did not know him; I didn’t ask him.”

      “That makes no difference. I asked him.”

      Ina saw him then, somehow transformed from the loving though hard parent she had cherished in memory. He had been as powerfully affected by the touch of money and his false position as had her mother, only in a vastly different way.

      “Why did you?” went on Ina, aware that her composure and spirit were inimical to her father’s temper.

      “Sewell’s a fine young chap. His father’s my friend, an’ maybe partner. Reckon I thought you an’ Sewell would take a shine to each other.”

      “Thank you. That explains Mr. McAdam. He seemed pretty sure that I’d take a shine to him, as you call it.”

      At this juncture Marvie exploded into a rapturous: “Haw! Haw! Haw!”

      “Shet up, an’ leave the table,” ordered Mr. Blaine. Then turning to Ina with face somewhat reddened, he continued: “Ina, I ain’t denyin’ I told Sewell you’d sure like him.”

      “I’m sorry, for I don’t.”

      “Wal, that’s too bad, but I reckon you will when you get acquainted.”

      “It’s quite improbable, Father,” returned Ina, unconscious that for the first time she omitted the familiar dad.

      “Sewell’s father an’ me are goin’ into a big business deal,” said Mr. Blaine, laboriously breathing, and his huge hands held up knife and fork. “They’re mighty proud folks. If you snubbed Sewell it’d hurt my stand with them.”

      “I’ll not snub him or any of your friends or partners,” replied Ina. “I’ll be respectful and courteous, as one of your family, when they call here. But I do not want to be left alone again with Mr. Sewell McAdam or any other man. And I won’t be, either.”

      “Paw, Ina is still sweet on Ben Ide,” interrupted Kate, spitefully.

      All the blood in Ina’s heart seemed to burn in her face. The name of Ben Ide, spoken aloud, had inexplicable power to move her. This was so thought-provoking that it rendered her mute.

      “You ought to be grateful for the attentions of Sewell McAdam,” declared Kate, with a flare in her eyes.

      “Listen, Kate, I’m not so susceptible as you are to the blarney of city men,” returned Ina, goaded beyond restraint. “They might be actuated by the change in our fortunes.”

      This precipitated the imminence of a family quarrel, which was checked by Mrs. Blaine’s bursting into tears and Marvie’s yelling derisively at Kate from the hall. Mr. Blaine stamped after him. Kate, white-faced and shaken, sat there in silence. Ina endeavored to soothe her mother; and presently, when Mr. Blaine returned with fire in his eye muttering, “That damn youngster’s goin’ to be another Ben Ide!” they all resumed their supper, jointly ashamed of the upset.

      That night Ina sat alone in her dark room beside the open window. Spring frogs were piping plaintively. How the sweet notes made Ina shiver! They too flooded her mind with memories of the home she had cherished in her heart, of childhood and youth. Of Ben Ide! She could make out the dim high black hills beyond which lay Forlorn River. Dropping her head on the window sill, she wept.