"I guess you needn't be afraid of him." "Is it a question of my being afraid ?" Alma asked; she seemed coolly intent on her drawing.
"Miss Leighton thinks he ought to be afraid of her," Miss Woodburn explained.
"It's a question of his courage, then ?" said Alma.
"Well, I don't think there are many young ladies that Beaton's afraid of," said Fulkerson, giving himself the respite of this purely random remark, while he interrogated the faces of Mrs.Leighton and Colonel Woodburn for some light upon the tendency of their daughters' words.
He was not helped by Mrs.Leighton's saying, with a certain anxiety, "I don't know what you mean, Mr.Fulkerson." "Well, you're as much in the dark as I am myself, then," said Fulkerson.
"I suppose I meant that Beaton is rather--a--favorite, you know.

The women like him." Mrs.Leighton sighed, and Colonel Woodburn rose and left the room.
In the silence that followed, Fulkerson looked from one lady to the other with dismay.

"I seem to have put my foot in it, somehow," he suggested, and Miss Woodburn gave a cry of laughter.
"Poo' Mr.Fulkerson! Poo' Mr.Fulkerson! Papa thoat you wanted him to go." "Wanted him to go ?" repeated Fulkerson.
"We always mention Mr.Beaton when we want to get rid of papa." "Well, it seems to me that I have noticed that he didn't take much interest in Beaton, as a general topic.

But I don't know that I ever saw it drive him out of the room before!" "Well, he isn't always so bad," said Miss Woodburn.

"But it was a case of hate at first sight, and it seems to be growin' on papa." "Well, I can understand that," said Fulkerson.