“Oh, that’s all right, young folks ought to be like that. My, when I was engaged, I flew off my head if anybody so much as looked at my young man!”
“It couldn’t have been so very long ago,” smiled Patty, who had suddenly come to the conclusion that Mrs. Doremus was not so very old, and was, doubtless, prematurely grey-haired.
“Oh yes, many and many a year. But memory is still green, and the sight of young lovers makes my mind turn back, as to a well-remembered page.”
Again, Patty caught the strange inflection, as if Mrs. Doremus’ words were not quite sincere.
“Come, girls,” said Philip, “as you’ve finished your coffee, let’s be thinking about starting.”
“I don’t want to go!” protested Helen; “it’s perfectly lovely here, and we can just as well stay an hour longer as not. Can’t we, Mr. Herron?”
“So far as I am concerned, yes. But, unless you start soon, you may find the roads impassable, and be obliged to remain here over night.”
“Oh, I’ve the idea!” Helen cried, “you men go back to town, and leave us girls here to stay the night with Mrs. Doremus! I do think that would be fine! You’d take care of us, wouldn’t you?”
She turned her bright, coaxing face to the apple-cheeked old lady, with mute appeal.
To her surprise, Mrs. Doremus was suddenly afflicted with a hard coughing spell. She choked and nearly strangled, growing red in the face, and gasping for breath.