“I humbly beg your pardon.”
Lina stared at him with dumb amazement, and he went on:—
“I am Arthur Steele. I came home on a vacation to-day, and was sitting up to watch father's melon-patch for the pure fun of it, expecting to catch some small boys, and when I caught you, I couldn't resist the temptation of a little farce. As for Amy, that only occurred to me at the last; and if you think it unfair, you may have your promise back.”
Lina had now measurably recovered her equannimity, and, ignoring his explanation, demanded, as she looked around:—
“How am I to get out of this dreadful place?” mentally contemplating meanwhile the impossibility of clambering through that fence with a young gentleman looking on.
“I will let down the bars,” he said, and they turned toward the fence.
“Let's see, this is your melon, is it not?” he observed, stooping to pick up the booty Lina had dropped in her first panic. “You must keep that anyhow. You 've earned it.”
Since the tables turned so unexpectedly in her favor, Lina had recovered her dignity in some degree, and had become very freezing toward this young man, by whom she began to feel she had been very badly treated. In this reaction of indignation she had really almost forgotten how she came in the garden at all. But this reference to the melon quite upset her new equanimity, and as Arthur grinned broadly she blushed and stood there in awful confusion. Finally she blurted out:—
“I didn't want your stupid melon. I only wanted some fun. I can't explain, and I don't care whether you understand it or not.”
Tears of vexation glittered in her eyes. He sobered instantly, and said, with an air of the utmost deference:—