The Chinook

Mrs. Pantin's thin lips went shut like a rat-trap.

"Abram, are you twitting me?"

Mr. Pantin ignored the accusation, and observed astutely: "I presume you've done your share of talking, and that's why--"

"She is impossible, and what you ask is impossible," Mrs. Pantin declared firmly.

"It's not often that I ask a favor of you, Prissy." His tone was conciliatory.

Mrs. Pantin met him half way and her voice was softer as she answered: "I appreciate that, Abram, but there are a few of us who must keep up the bars against such persons. Society--"

"Rats!" ejaculated Mr. Pantin coarsely.

The hand which she had laid tenderly upon his shoulder was withdrawn as if it harbored a hornet.

"I don't understand this at all--not at all," she said, icily. "However," very distinctly, "it is not necessary that I should, for I shall not do it." She folded her arms as she confronted him.

Mr. Pantin was silent so long that she thought the battle was over, and purred at him: "You can realize how I feel about it, can't you, darling?"

"No, by George, I can't! And I'm not going to either." He slapped the table with Henry Van Dyke in ooze leather for emphasis. "I want Kate Prentice invited here the next time she's in town. If you don't do as I ask, Priscilla, you shan't go a step--not a step--to Keokuk this winter."

"Is that an ultimatum?" Mrs. Pantin demanded.