"How did he happen to get into the water, in the first place?" Mr.
Barrett inquired.
"Chiefly because his Aunt Phebe advised him to be careful, or he would get his feet wet," Hope answered. "There is no use in my trying to excuse my naughty boy, Mr. Barrett. Mac was so eager to assure my sister that she didn't own him that, in his defiance, he backed straight into the water."
"Oh, Hope, what is the use of telling, now it is all over?" Phebe's remonstrant tones came from inside the house.
Gifford Barrett rose and went towards the door.
"Are you there, Miss McAlister? I hoped I should see you."
"I'll be out in a minute."
The minute was a long one. Then Phebe stepped through the open doorway into the stronger light outside. Her face flushed a little, as she reluctantly touched the young man's outstretched hand; but that was all there was to show that she recalled the last words they had exchanged, the day before.
"I wanted to see you," he went on, as he seated himself once more. "I am going away, to-morrow night, and before I went, I had something I wished to tell—to explain, that is, to you all."
A sudden tension seemed to make itself felt throughout the group. No one of them had the remotest idea of what he was about to say, yet even Dr. McAlister drew his chair a few inches nearer, while Cicely, in her corner, fairly bounced in her excitement.
"Well, let her go," Billy remarked, after a moment when the guest seemed to find it hard to open the subject.