“But why shouldn’t I carry you into the house?”
“Because—oh, because Aunty Landis would be terribly frightened! She’d think something dreadful had happened to me. Please put me down. I can limp along, if you’ll let me use your arm.”
He allowed her to slip slowly to the ground. “There you are, then; but be careful.”
A sigh of relief escaped her as she tried her weight gingerly on the injured foot.
“It’s ever so much better. I won’t even have to hop.” Her face was upturned earnestly. “Thank you very much, Mr. Puddin’ Tame. You’ve been very kind.”
“You’re very welcome,” he returned, and, seized by a sudden paternal tenderness, he stooped and kissed the red-lipped mouth.
She stepped back with a sharp “Oh!” mingled of anger and the pain of her twisted ankle. “Oh! Why did you do that? We were having such fun, and—and now you’ve spoiled the whole afternoon. What a—a perfectly silly thing to do!”
He quailed before the bayonets flashing in the blue eyes.
“I was carried away,” he said humbly.
“I hate you!”