“Oh, it does, does it?” said my companion, doubtfully.
I still had my theory about Elsie running in my head. I thought I might try and set the matter in a more cheerful light. Sol had got up, and was staring out of the open window. I went over to him and glanced up timidly into his usually good-humored face, which was now looking very dark and discontented. He was a shy man, as a rule, but I thought that with a little leading he might be brought to confess.
“You’re a jealous old thing,” I remarked.
The young man colored and looked down at me.
“I know your secret,” said I, boldly.
“What secret?” said he, coloring even more.
“Never you mind. I know it. Let me tell you this,” I added, getting bolder: “that Jack and Elsie never got on very well. There is far more chance of Jack’s falling in love with me. We were always friends.”
If I had stuck the knitting-needle which I held in my hand into cousin Sol, he could not have given a greater jump. “Good heavens!” he said, and I could see his dark eyes staring at me through the twilight. “Do you really think that it is your sister that I care for?”
“Certainly,” said I, stoutly, with a feeling that I was nailing my colors to the mast.
Never did a single word produce such an effect. Cousin Sol wheeled round with a gasp of astonishment, and sprang right out of the window. He always had curious ways of expressing his feelings, but this one struck me as being so entirely original that I was utterly bereft of any idea save that of wonder. I stood staring out into the gathering darkness. Then there appeared, looking in at me from the lawn, a very much abashed and still rather astonished face. “It’s you I care for, Nell,” said the face, and at once vanished, while I heard the noise of somebody running at the top of his speed down the avenue. He certainly was a most extraordinary young man.