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FLAMING

YOUTH

“Dr. Osterhout? Yes. We have become quite friends.” “I’m glad of that,” she said gravely. “Are you? Why? You like him?” “J adore him. I would have thought that you two would be friends,” she added thoughtfully.

“Now I wonder why you should think that?” he smiled, but instead of awaiting her reply he set out for the food. Pat wondered, too. By the time he had returned, however, her restless mind had taken another turn.

‘How long have you known us?” she asked. “Us P??

“The Fentriss girls. We're us.” “Ah? Some two months or more.” ‘And you’re almost one of the family.” “How do you arrive at that flattering conclusion?” “From Dee, and Dad. And ycu say Bobs has taken you in. And Con. Especially Con. Why aren’t you having supper with her?” “Because I happen to be here.” Quietly though the words were spoken a palpable hardening of his manner warned her against further impertinences along this line. For the moment she shied off, and, removing a macaroon which she had filched from his plate after once denying it to herself, from between her teeth, inquired casually: “Got anything on your hip?” Not yet fully initiate in the argot of his native land, Scott looked his inquiry. “A drink. A flask.” “Do you want a drink?” “Why the amazement, Grandfather dear?” “Ts that a recognised part of your dear Dr. Bobs’s diet ?* “Bobs would have a fit.

He doesn’t know

little Pat

is out. But wouldn’t a touch of hooch put a bit of a dash into the proceedings about now?”