"Oh—look!"
"What is it, Anna?"
She murmured in almost an ecstasy: "Why, he's got his arm right round her waist!"
The awful intelligence that this was indeed Marjory, and that a man had his arm around her waist, smote the minister's consciousness with peculiar and climactic force.
Hilda and Leslie took their own good time about coming in off the lake. It was so wonderful out there in the moonlight.
"I've had a perfectly grand time!" she told him, her voice thrilling richly with conviction. She knew she had had a grand time, and whatever might be the sequel when she faced her parents, the grandness would never, never diminish.
They ascended the slight sand elevation and reached the steps leading up to the porch. Moonlight patched and patterned the steps. They did not go any farther.
Hilda sat down, drawing her knees and chin together, while Leslie whistled softly.
"Will your father be mad?" he asked.
"Oh, no!" the girl exclaimed, with the full and emphatic authority of one who is gravely in doubt. "Why?" she added. "It isn't late, is it?"