“The invitations are to go out to-morrow,” she said. “We’ll have a delightful time. Oh, if Inza were here!”
Bart wondered if she felt no jealousy of Inza.
Having bade Elsie adieu, and waved his hand to the doctor, who returned the salute, Bart turned his face toward the city.
The fever had left his veins, and his heart was beating in its usual manner as he swung along. But he was ashamed of himself on account of the bitter things that had filled his mind in regard to Frank, and he resolved to make a confession and ask pardon.
His love for Elsie was more intense than ever. While he thought of her, visions of the strange, uncanny doctor kept obtruding upon him. He saw the man standing there in the woods, big, thick, muscular, staring at the huge stone at his feet. He seemed harmless enough, but Bart was firm in his conviction that such queer characters were dangerous, and should be watched. This being the case, he could not help feeling uneasy about Elsie as long as she remained at Whitney Hill.
It was growing dusk when Bart came swinging down Whitney Avenue. He did not look like the same person who had rushed madly and blackly out of town a while before. His face wore such a pleasant look that he was positively handsome.
Some children had been playing a game of tag. One of them fell and was hurt. Bart stopped, picked up the child, wiped away its tears, soothed it to laughter, and left it with a quarter clasped in its soiled fingers.
Straight to Frank, Bart went. He found Merry in his room, writing steadily, manuscript scattered about. Often, of late, Bart had found him thus employed, and he wondered somewhat what the nature of Frank’s work could be.
“Where have you been, Hodge?” Frank asked. “I’ve tried in vain to find you.”
“Have you?”