“Haven’t you had any exercise to-day? I saw the boys going to the ball ground to play football. Didn’t you go?”
“Yes.”
“And still you say you haven’t any appetite! Now, I know there’s something the matter with you. Won’t you tell your old aunt all about it, Don? You know I’m interested, and——”
“It’s nothing—noting at all!” declared the boy, somewhat impatiently. “I just don’t want any supper, that’s all, and I want you to tell father I’ve gone out for a walk.”
“Don’t you think you ought to tell him yourself before you go?”
“No; he’s busy now. I’ve just come from his office, but I didn’t go in when I saw he was busy. You tell him, aunt. Perhaps I’ll have an appetite when I come back. Now, that’s a good aunt! Don’t get any queer notions into your head, for I’m all right, only I don’t feel like eating.”
He suddenly caught her in his arms and kissed her. Then he was gone, leaving her standing there with clasped hands. She listened till the sound of a closing door told her he had left the house.
“Just like his father!” she murmured, softly. “Just as his father used to be, but Lyman has changed greatly since he lost Mary. Will he never forget?”
Then she continued the preparations for supper.
Don walked swiftly away from the house, fearing his aunt might immediately tell his father, who would call him back. On reaching the sidewalk, he paused for a moment, glancing down the street toward the little square in the heart of the village. He saw two youths cross the square, passing the little fountain. They were Sterndale and Renwood, and he turned his back toward the square, hurrying up the hill.