“And when will you be out to see me, John?” she asked, with a look in her eyes as if her heart hung upon his answer.
“Not for a week or so,” he replied, in a rich baritone voice. “I am eager enough, but we are just now unduly busy in the store.”
“Can’t you come out on Sunday? The country is beautiful now.”
“I will do my best,” he replied. “When our wedding-day comes, Jennie,” he added, tenderly, “I will make a permanent engagement. Your word will be law.”
“Yes, that’s the way all the men talk,” she replied, gayly. “Those are splendid resolutions, but they won’t wear. I have been making a study of married men. How about the promise you made me for to-day?”
“The promise? What promise?”
“There, if he has not gone and forgotten already!” She shook her head in affected surprise. “The forfeit you owe me. You were to pay it to-day. Don’t you know that is all I came in town for?”
“I wish you had been with me to jog my memory, for it has wandered,” he replied. “I thought it was a sheer desire to see my handsome face that brought you in.”
“Now, you tease!” she exclaimed, turning away. “But the forfeit? You shall not get off so easily.”
“Let me see if I have not some gift for you in my pocket,” he said, gravely. “It is a perilous thing to eat philopenas with a lady. I should have known better.”