Part 41 (2/2)

While she rolled her knitting and placed it in her silken reticule, I, glancing around, noticed that all the apple bloom had fallen, and the tiny green fruit-buds dotted every twig.

Then, as she was ready, and stood prettily awaiting me in her pink chintz gown, and her kerchief and buckled shoon, I gave her my hand and we walked slowly across the gra.s.s and down to the water.

Here was a great silvery iron-wood tree a-growing and spreading pleasant shade; and here we sat us down.

But now that I had got this maid Penelope away from the pest of suitors, it came suddenly to me that my pretenses were false, and I really had nothing to say to her which might not be discussed in company with others.

This knowledge presently embarra.s.sed me to the point of feeling my face grow hot. But when I ventured to glance at her she smiled.

”Have you been in battle?” she asked.

”Yes.”

After a silence: ”I am most happy that you returned in safety.”

”Did you ever--ever think of me?” I asked.

”Why, yes,” she replied in surprise.

”I thought,” said I, ”that being occupied--and so greatly sought after by so many gallants--that you might easily have forgotten me.”

She laughed and plucked a gra.s.s-blade.

”I did not forget you,” she said.

”That is amazing,” said I, ”--a maid so run after and so courted.”

She plucked another blade of gra.s.s, and so sat, pulling at the tender verdure, her head bent so that I could not see what her eyes were thinking, but her lips seemed graver.

”Well,” said I, ”is there news of Mr. Fonda?”

”None, sir.”

”Tell me,” said I, smiling, ”why, when I speak, do you answer ever with a 'sir'?”

At that she looked up: ”Are you not Lord Stormont, Mr. Drogue?” she asked innocently.

”Why, no! That is, n.o.body believes it any more than did the Lords in their House so many years ago. Is that why you sometimes say 'my lord,'

and sometimes call me 'sir'?”

”But you still are the Laird of Northesk.”

”Lord!” said I, laughing. ”Is it that Scottish t.i.tle bothers you? Pay it no attention and call me John Drogue--or John.... Or Jack, if you will.... Will you do so?”

”If it--pleases you.”

She was still busy with the gra.s.s, and I watched her, waiting to see her dark eyes lift again--and see that little tremor of her lips which presaged the dawning smile.

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