"
"Oh, yes," I said; "we have seen her--that is, we have seen her sunbonnet."
"Kitty, you've got a rival," I exclaimed: for there in the sunny centre of
the island, planted with obvious design right in front of the Snow Bank,
_our_ Snow Bank, was an artist's big white umbrella.
"Why should I not have, in a place like this?" she said. "If the schemers
arrive by twos, why not two of my modest craft? _We_ shall leave it as we
find it; we don't intend to carry it away in our pockets." She stopped, and
blushed disdainfully. "I forgot," she murmured, "my own mercenary designs."
"I have not heard of these mercenary designs of yours. What are they, may
I ask?" Harshaw had turned on his side on the grass, and half rose on one
elbow as he looked at her.
"That is strange," mocked Kitty, with supreme coldness. "You have always
been so interested in my affairs!"
"I always shall be," he replied seriously, with supreme gentleness.
"I ought to be so grateful."
"But unfortunately you are not."
"I should be grateful--if you would move a little farther to the right, if
you please. That young person in the pink sunbonnet is coming down to water
her horses again.
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