She broke the momentary silence: “What are you doing here—now?”
“I am waiting to walk home with you.”
“But it is too early. I told you after Sabbath school.”
“I’ll wait,” he said.
“Don’t let me put you to that trouble.”
“I’ll wait,” he repeated grimly.
He was waiting at the door when she came forth after Sabbath school was over, and he fell in at her side. She made an observation about the beautiful day, but his face wore a shadow, and it was of something quite different that he presently spoke.
“I hope, Janet,” he said, “that you are not becoming interested in that man Locke?”
“Oh, but I am interested in him,” she returned, laughing. “How can I help being? He is a wonderful pitcher, and he has shown that he can take care of himself when crowded into a corner. Every one who has seen him must be interested in him.”
“You know what I mean, Janet. He is a professional ball player, a stranger, a man whom no one around here knows anything about.”