There could be no question, his bearing and words marked the gentleman; if doubts had troubled her, they fled at once. In the garb of the baseball field he had looked well; in a suit of gray tweed, negligee shirt, and russet shoes, he looked far better. His soft hat lay on the ground near the book. She, too, felt her heart beating fast.
“When I sought this quiet spot,” he went on, as she still remained silent, “I scarcely anticipated the pleasure of beholding a wood nymph. And hark!—the pipes of Pan!”
The sound of music came from some spot near at hand.
“It’s Tommy’s harmonica,” she laughed. “Tommy,” she called again, “where are you, you rascal?”
She was answered by an elfish burst of laughter, followed by a rustling in the bushes and the appearance of a head of tousled, reddish hair, a freckled, snub-nosed face, and a pair of mischievous, dancing eyes that widened at the sight of Locke.
“Gee!” said the boy, coming into full view. “I didn’t know he was here. Where’s the rest of the bunch, Miss Janet?” One soiled hand gripped the harmonica.
“You see what you did by running away, Tommy,” said the girl, in mock severity. “You made me disturb Mr. Locke.”
“For which offense, Tommy,” smiled the young man, “I’ll stand treat at the candy store the first chance I get. While not in the least desiring to encourage insubordination, I must say I’m glad you ran away.”
Janet flashed him a look, and her eyes dropped before his gaze. She could feel the flush in her cheeks.
“I came out for a walk with some of the little fellows of my Sunday-school class,” she hastened to explain. “Tommy Murphy is always up to his pranks. One day he got lost in the woods, and they didn’t find him until eleven o’clock that night.”