Mrs. Lindsay went to the kitchen with Luella to bestow the provisions she had purchased, and King strolled out on the piazza and watched his friend and Madge.
The girl was still in her smart tailor gown. From previous observation of her tactics he believed that when the game was over she would change her dress before starting in on her evening; and he watched for that psychological moment when she should disappear.
The moon was full to-night, and with the marvelous obligingness of Maine weather the wind had gone down with the sun, making the out-of-doors even more attractive by night than by day. As the twilight deepened, the great planet changed from silver to gold.
When at last the ball players took off their leather gloves, Madge spoke wistfully.
"I wish we could go out on that moon path! Think of this heavenly night and no boat except that old smelly tub of Mr. Benslow's! When we come again, Freddy—"
She stopped, and he smiled down at her brilliant dark face, rosy with exercise and brown from the sun.
"Yes, next time sure," he said. "You see I didn't want to do anything about a boat so long as King couldn't go out."
"You're the best friend I ever knew," declared the girl. "Wait till I get on another frock. We'll drag him with us over to the rock. The Loreleis will be singing to-night, I am sure."
"One will, I hope," returned Whitcomb. She skipped before him. "You've never seen me dance," she said. "Before the moon goes I must dance for you on the grass. I have a costume here and my castanets."
"You'd be a wonderful Carmen," returned Whitcomb, regarding her lithe dipping and swinging, admiringly.