"But you are so much grander than I," returned Dic, "that you seem to be farther from me than ever before."
"Farther?" she asked in surprise.
"Yes, you seem to be drifting from me ever since you came to Indianapolis," he returned.
"Ah, Dic, I have been feeling just the reverse," and her eyes opened wide as she looked into his without faltering. There was not a thought in all their gentle depths she would not gladly have him know. A short silence ensued, during which she was thinking rapidly, and her thoughts produced these remarkable words:—
"You should have taken me long ago." Dic wondered how he might have taken her; but failing to discover any mistake, he went on:—
"I am going to New York again this spring and,—and you will be past eighteen when I return. You can then marry me without your mother's consent, if you will. Will you go home with me when I return?"
The eyes and the face were bent toward the ground, but the lips whispered distinctly, "Yes, Dic," and that young man bitterly regretted the publicity of their situation.
Soon our strollers met other young persons, and Dic was presented. All were dressed in holiday attire, and the young man from Blue felt that his companion and her friends outshone him completely. Rita was proud of him, and said as much in reply to Dic's remark when they resumed their walk.
"You might come to see me during the week, when the stores are open," she said, "and you might buy one of the new-fashioned hats. If you can afford it, you might order a long coat for Sunday. Polished shoes would look well, too; but I am satisfied with you as you are. I only suggest these purchases because you seem to feel uncomfortable."
After Rita's suggestion he did feel uncomfortable. He had earned no money since his return from New York, and Rita's fine feathers had been purchased by the proceeds of his twenty-six hundred dollars invested in her father's business. Therefore, hat, coat, and shoes were not within his reach unless he should go into debt, and that he had no thought of doing.