"Shall I go with you?" questioned Storms, holding out his hand for the pail, but she swung it out of his reach and went down the empty hall, laughing the encouragement she would not give in words.
The young man followed her. In pushing open the gate their hands met. The girl started, and a hot blush swept her face.
"You should be a gentleman," she said, regarding his dress with some curiosity.
Storms blushed crimson. The suggestion flattered him intensely.
"Why should you think so?" he questioned.
"Because working people in these parts never dress like that, gloves and all!" she answered, surveying him from head to foot with evident admiration. "A whole crowd of them—ladies too—went by just now with a swarm of yelping dogs ahead, and a little fox, scared half to death, running for its life. Are you one of them?"
"I might have been, only the brute of a horse made a bolt and left me behind," said Storms, with rising anger.
"A horse! oh, yes, I saw one limping over the hill after the rest went out of sight. Poor fellow, he was lamed."
"I hope so, the brute, for he has given me a long walk home, and no end of trouble after, I dare say; but if it hadn't happened, I should have missed seeing you."
Again the girl blushed, but carried her confusion off with a toss of the head.