“I never want to talk!” was the surprising and crisply spoken retort.
“Well, didn’t I say you needn’t! Don’t get wrathy—don’t ’ee, don’t ’ee—now,—as my old Scotch nurse used to say.”
But Miss Mystery gave him no look, although she allowed him to fall into step beside her, and the two walked rapidly along.
“How’d you like the looks of the Doctor?” Pinky asked, hoping to induce conversation.
“I scarcely saw him.”
“Oh, you saw him,—though you had small chance to get to know him. Perfect old brick, but a little on edge of late. Approaching matrimony, I suppose. Did you notice his ruby stickpin?”
“Yes; it didn’t seem to suit him at all.”
“No; he’s a conservative dresser. But that pin,—it’s a famous gem,—was given him by his own class,—I mean his graduating class, but long after they graduated, and he had to promise to wear it once a week, so he usually gets into it on Sundays. It’s a corking stone!”
“Yes,” said Miss Austin.
On reaching the Adams house, the girl said a quick good-by, and Pinky Payne found himself at liberty to go in and see the other members of the household, or to go home, for Miss Austin disappeared into the hall and up the staircase with the rapidity of a dissolving view.