"I am sure you find it so," I replied; "for myself, I have never had the experience."
"How dryly you say it!" laughed Paulina. "But now, Nan, tell me—why has the Professor taken himself off, and Jack Upsher? What is the meaning of it? Have you been breaking hearts here during my absence?"
"I don't know what you mean," I said, thankful for the veil of twilight. "Professor Faulkner has gone to the assistance of a friend who is ill. He is taking classes as a locum tenens in some Scotch college."
"Oh, I know—Miss Cottrell told me that," she replied impatiently; "but I guess I can see as far through a brick wall as most people, and I know there's something behind. You can't throw dust in my eyes."
"I have no wish to do so," I said coolly; "there is no occasion that I know of."
"You are an obstinate little mortal, Nan," said Paulina severely; "I hoped you were going to be my friend. I meant to tell you, you might call me 'Pollie.' No one has done so yet except poppa and one other person, though I presume Miss Cottrell thinks she has a right to do so now; indeed she tried it on yesterday."
I nudged Paulina to make her aware that her father and his companion had emerged from the sheltered path and were taking their way to the house. Paulina responded by throwing her arm round my waist and drawing me quickly behind a bush.
"What a couple of old dears they look!" she said irreverently. "I don't want them to see us, for I do not mean to go in yet. It is too lovely."
I assented eagerly. The moon was now visible far beyond the trees and shed its radiance full upon the lawn. The shadow of each tree and bush was sharply defined upon the grass. Bats were beginning to flit on heavy wing across the garden. The light breeze which was sweeping through the trees was not too cool for us. Paulina linked her arm in mine, and we turned towards the path between the apple trees.
The beauty and mystery of the night laid its spell upon us, making: