"No-o?" commented Mary slyly in sceptical demur.
Ned glanced into the brown eyes in time to surprise a smile uniquely pleasing in its whimsical delight. Instantly they became mockingly sober.
"Mary!" said he seriously, holding her gaze. "Will you miss me?"
The girl's eyes wandered suddenly to tree, sky, brook, finally resting on a log at their feet.
"What a sudden switch from general to particular," said she, absorbed apparently in the task of pecking a hole in the bark with the dainty toe of her riding-boot.
Laughing quietly Ned proceeded.
"If you could peep into my mind, Mary, you would find a seething resentment there. And all because of you. Soon you will be rejoining the old class. There's the rub. I cannot conceive of Pellawa without you."
"Indeed?"
"And a very big 'indeed,'" aggrieved Ned. "To think that Rooter Combes and his rah-rahs will be in clover. This obsession has been actively depressing since last Thursday. Perhaps you remember riding by Sparrow's. You looked quaintly desirable in that chic, brown slicker——"
"With my face all spattered and Bobs a mud tramp!"