Slowly the tears rolled down Katy's cheeks. She knew that the minutes were passing rapidly, and that she and Alvin had said nothing. But still she sat with her hands pressed against her eyes.
Almost immediately, alas! there was an alarming sound. The step of Bevy was heard descending the stairway. Poor Katy could cheerfully have slain her. A hundred confused thoughts filled her mind, the tears came faster than ever; she rose, and Alvin rose with her and they looked at each other, and then Alvin was gone. In his excitement he closed the gate noisily behind him. Katy sank down again on the step from which she had risen. When Bevy looked out from the doorway, Katy sat motionless.
"You ought to come in, Katy," advised Bevy. "It is cold."
"I am not cold," said Katy.
"It is damp and cold," insisted Bevy. "I thought I heard the gate slam."
Katy made no answer.
"Did it slam?" asked Bevy.
Katy looked round. Her eyes were bright; her voice, if it trembled, did not tremble with grief. "If you heard it, I guess it slammed," said she.
"The night air is bad." Bevy was losing patience. "Will you come in?"
"No," said Katy.