“I hope Robbie knows where she put those trunk checks,” says Father, at the same time sighin’ sort of relieved.

From where I stood, though, the guy who was pushin’ overboard the biggest chunk of worry was this I-wilt boy, Mr. Nicholas Talbot.  He’d got her at last!  But, z-z-z-zingo! it had been some lively gettin’.  Not that I was all through the campaign with him; but I’d had glimpses here and there.

You see, Robbie’s almost one of the fam’ly; for Mr. Robert’s an old friend of the Ballards, and was bottle holder or something at the christenin’.  As a matter of fact, she was named Roberta after him.  Then he’d watched her grow up, and always remembered her birthdays, and kept her latest picture on his desk.  So why shouldn’t he figure more or less when so many others was tryin’ to straighten out her love affairs?  They was some tangled there for awhile too.

Robbie’s one of the kind, you know, that would have Cupid cross-eyed in one season.  A queen?  Well, take it from me!  Say, the way her cheeks was tinted up natural would have a gold medal rose lookin’ like it come off a twenty-nine-cent roll of wall paper.  Then them pansy-colored eyes!  Yes, Miss Roberta Ballard was more or less ornamental.  That wa’n’t all, of course.  She could say more cute things, and cut loose with more unexpected pranks, than a roomful of Billie Burkes.  As cunnin’ as a kitten, she was.

No wonder Nick Talbot fell for her the first time he was exposed!  Course, he was half engaged to that stunnin’ Miss Marian Marlowe at the time; but wa’n’t Robbie waverin’ between three young chaps that all seemed to be in the runnin’ before Nick showed up?

Anyway, Miss Marlowe should have known better than to lug in her steady when she was visitin’.  She’d been chummy with Robbie at boardin’ school, and should have known how dangerous she was.  But young Mr. Talbot had only two looks before he’s as strong for Robbie as though it had been comin’ on for years back.  Impetuous young gent that way he was too; and, bein’ handicapped by no job, and long on time and money, he does some spirited rushin’.

Seems Robbie Ballard didn’t mind.  Excitement was her middle name, novelty was her strong suit, and among Nick’s other attractions he was brand new.  Besides, wa’n’t he a swell one-stepper, a shark at tennis, and couldn’t he sing any ragtime song that she could drum out?  The ninety-horse striped racin’ car that he came callin’ in helped along some; for one of Robbie’s fads was for travelin’ fast.  Course, she’d been brought up in limousines; but the mile in fifty seconds gave her a genuine thrill.

When it come to holdin’ out her finger for the big solitaire that Nick flashed on her about the third week, though, she hung back.  The others carried about the same line of jew’lry around in their vest pockets, waitin’ for a chance to decorate her third finger.  One had the loveliest gray eyes too.  Then there was another entry, with the dearest little mustache, who was a bear at doin’ the fish-walk tango with her; not to mention the young civil engineer she’d met last winter at Palm Beach.  But he didn’t actually count, not bein’ on the scene.