"
Jim laughed sarcastically. "Running up your wares now, are you?"
"That house cost Andrew Bolton a pile of money. And now, if it's
fixed up, it'll be the best house in Brookville."
"That isn't saying much. See here, you've got to let me pass. If you
want to sell--I should think you would--I don't see what you are
worrying about. I don't suppose you are worrying for fear you may
cheat the girl."
"We ain't goin' to cheat the girl, but--I dunno." Whittle stood
aside, shaking his head, and Jim passed on. He loitered along the
shaggy hedge which bordered the old Bolton estate, and a little
farther, then turned back. He had reached the house again when he
started. In front of the gate stood a shadowy figure, a woman, by the
outlines of the dress. Jim continued hesitatingly. He feared to
startle her. But he did not. When he came abreast of her, she turned
and looked full in his face, and he recognized Miss Orr. He took off
his hat, but was so astonished he could scarcely utter a greeting.
The girl was so shy that she stammered a little, but she laughed too,
like a child caught in some mischief.
"Oh, I am so glad it is you!" she said.
"Well, taking all things into consideration, so am I," said Jim.
"You mean--?"
"I mean it is pretty late for you to be out alone, and I'm as good as
a Sunday School picnic, with the superintendent and the minister
thrown in, for you to meet. I'll see you home."
"Goodness! There's nothing to be afraid of in this little place,"
said the girl.
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