Jeanie shook her head decidedly.
“Peggy Wilson said that David was a fine lad, and I was in luck to get ahead of you.”
Jeanie never stirred.
“And Phil Beatty came up when we were going to mount to ride home, and he said, ‘When you give your housewarming, Dave, count on me; you’ll be wanting some one to help you if you’re going to add to your house soon,’ and David laughed; and when he put me on the horse, I vow he squeezed my hand. I think I like David very much, and as long as you don’t care for him—why—there would be nothing wrong in liking him, would there? Now if I had tried to attract him behind your back and without learning whether you wanted him or not, that would be another thing, and it would be too dishonorable to think of, but as it is—let me see—he is twenty and I am now sixteen; in another year I might like him well enough. Do we look well together, Jeanie? I ask only on my own account, since you don’t admire David. David—it is a nice name, isn’t it? Mrs. David Campbell, I wonder how I should like to be known as that.”
Jeanie sprang to her feet, and flung Agnes’s hand from her. “You are a mean, aggravating girl. I don’t love you, if you want to know. I wish I had never seen you.” And she burst into tears.
“Now, haven’t I gone and done it!” exclaimed Agnes. “But still—now don’t cry, Jeanie—still if you don’t care for David, why can’t you let me have him?”
“I do care,” sobbed Jeanie, “if that satisfies you—if you like to be a fiendish Indian and torture my secrets out of me.”
“Was it a secret?”
“You know it was. You know you had no right to tease it out of me when I didn’t want to tell it. You know it was cruel.”
“I didn’t know. I forgot you might want to keep it even from me, and that I hadn’t any right to make you tell me. I forgot everything except that I was bound to make you acknowledge that I had prophesied truly. I did that,” she added, half in triumph, though she was really much subdued. She went close to Jeanie, and attempted to put her arm around her friend, but Jeanie pushed her away. Agnes grew more penitent as she realized how deeply she had offended, and she stood the picture of contrition. “I’m so sorry, Jeanie,” she said, after a pause in which only Jeanie’s sobs could be heard. “I’ll never, never tell any one. I will not, truly. I see now I was very wicked to tease you so, but I know David likes you better than anybody, and—please be friends and I’ll tell you why he seemed to like being with me—I talked about you all the time.”