Ethel bestowed a searching glance upon Dr. Eaton. “We must have gone farther out of our way than I thought,” she said frigidly.
And then, all at once, feeling the interested eyes of “The Merry Hearts” fastened upon her, she began to blush, just exactly as Betty Wales or Babbie would have blushed under a similar embarrassment, and picking up her parasol she hurried off into the house.
“The Merry Hearts” did not know exactly how to interpret this incident. Its immediate effect was to make the relations between Ethel and Dr. Eaton a shade less cordial than before. But, as Mary said, you couldn’t judge by appearances.
“We didn’t deliberately run away from them,” she explained. “You see our ten boys began chasing a dog down a side street, and of course we had to chase the boys.”
“So they couldn’t possibly have caught up with us,” put in Madeline, “but that doesn’t account for their coming in at the finish three large quarters of an hour behind time.”
“Well, how do you think they happened to do it?” inquired Babe scientifically.
“I think,” returned Mary, “that they were having an awfully jolly little talk, and that they forgot the passing of time—or at least Miss Hale did—and the rules for the dignity of chaperons.”
“Yes,” said Babbie, “she forgot she was a faculty and acted just like any other girl. She isn’t old; she’s just at the nicest age. And isn’t she dear when she blushes?”
“She’s always dear,” declared Eleanor, remembering her freshman year.
“But do you think,” began little Helen Adams anxiously, “that people generally forget the time until after they’ve begun to know each other awfully well?”