“I am, I am!” I replied heartily (for why should I have tried to hide it?); and I put up one timid and hand laid it on his shoulder. And then he clasped me close, and we took a long, long, long kiss, with scorching faces and loud-beating hearts. And we never thought anything more about pears and greengages until the tea-bell rang, and it was too late even to think of looking for them.
CHAPTER IV.
ARCADIA.
“What shall we do now, Kitty?” said Tom, as we hastened through the orchard, hand in hand, with our empty basket. “Shall I call your father away after tea and speak to him? Or shall we keep the rest of this one day for ourselves, and have a walk to the river in the moonlight? Do you think it would be wrong to have a clandestine engagement, just under their noses, until to-morrow?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied emphatically. “It would be much the nicest.”
“Much—there’s no doubt about that. And, after all, nobody can tell what may happen after to-day. Suppose he won’t give his consent, Kitty?”
“He’s too kind,” I said promptly. “And he can’t bear to see me miserable.”
“Not even for your good?”
“No, not even for my good. Mother would make me miserable for my good, though she would be a deal worse herself all the time; she has the will and the courage, somehow. But poor dear daddy breaks down the moment he sees me even getting ready to cry. I’m more afraid of mother than I am of him. But oh, Tom, what is there to be afraid of? What could any one see in you to object to?”
We were by this time in the back passage, and, doors being closed, stopped to exchange another kiss; and then we sneaked into the dining-room, one after the other, reversing the order of precedence in consideration of my nerves.