“You’re surely not scared?” demanded Sally. “There hasn’t anything happened wrong to this automobile?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you sure? It bumps a whole lot—Ugh! It’s not running away, is it?”
“I tell yuh it’s tame all right,” grunted Ike.
“Then, what’s the matter with you, Ike Stedman?” demanded the schoolmistress, with considerable sharpness.
“I—I’m suah in love with yuh, Sally! That’s what’s the matter with me. Now, don’t you laugh—I mean it.”
“Well, my soul!” exclaimed the practical Sally, “don’t let it take such a hold on you, Ike. Other men have been in love before—or thought they was—and it ain’t given ’em a conniption fit.”
“I got it harder than most men,” Ike was able to articulate. “Why, Sally, I love you so hard that it makes me ache!”
The red-haired schoolmistress looked at him for a silent moment. Her eyes were pretty hard at first; but finally a softer light came into them and a faint little blush colored her face.
“Well, Ike! is that all you’ve got to say?” she asked.