"Profissor, yer head is a bit thick. Can't ye take a hint, ur is it a kick ye nade, Oi dunno?"
"Young man, be careful what kind of language you use to me!"
"Oi'm spakin' United States, profissor; no Irishmon wauld iver spake English av he could hilp it."
"But such talk of thick heads and kicks—to me, sir, to me!"
"Well, Oi don't want to give yez a kick, but ye nade it. Ye can't see thot it's alone a bit Frank an' th' litthle girrul would loike to be."
"Why should they wish to be alone?"
"Oh, soay! did ye iver think ye'd loike to be alone wid a pretty swate girrul, profissor? Come on, now, before Oi pick ye up an' lug ye out."
So Barney finally induced the professor to leave the hut, but the little man remained close at hand, ready to bolt in through the wide open door the instant there was the least sign of danger.
Left to themselves, Frank and Elsie chatted, talking over many things of mutual interest. They sat very near together, and more and more Frank felt the magnetism of the girl's winning ways and tender eyes. He drew nearer and nearer, and, finally, although neither knew how it happened, their hands met, their fingers interlocked, and then he was saying swiftly, earnestly:
"Elsie, you cannot know how often I have thought of you since you left me at Fardale. There was something wrong about that parting, Elsie, for you refused to let me know where you were going, refused to write to me, expressed a wish that we might never meet again."