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Abner suspected the irony, but it was so much lighter than what he had been accustomed to in the Irontown garage that he had no answer at all. So he sat uncomfortable and faintly resentful in the rush of cold air. Now and then he gave a side glance at Adelaide and at her small square-cut hands on the wheel.

Abner did not like this girl, and he wondered why he had ever got into her motor, but his glances gave him a confused but pleasant impression of her yellow wool sweater, amused brown eyes, and curly brown hair against the yellow leather upholstery of the car. He did not observe these details consciously but the ensemble had its effect on him.

Adelaide no doubt noticed his pique, for presently she said soberly enough, "I hear you have placed your land claims in the hands of Buckingham Sharp."

"Who told you?"

"Why, Buck himself."

This astonished Abner so much that his mind was diverted.

"Do you know him?"

Miss Jones shrugged. "Rather; he was the only eligible man in this town until a few days ago, when a certain very melodramatic young landholder exploded into our midst as the long-lost scion of an old and noble strain." She glanced at Abner with quizzical bright eyes.

Abner did not follow the details of this raillery because Adelaide had used words unfamiliar to him. However, he knew in a general way what she had said. He stuck to his own text of Buckingham Sharp,

"Do you like him?"

"A drowning girl doesn't quarrel with her life preserver, Mr. Teeftallow, when she is going under the third and last time."

This figure was so whimsical that Abner burst into loud laughter. He looked at her frankly.

"You're the funniest girl I ever saw," he stated simply. "You don't act a bit like I'm a man."