The young man flushed under the frankness of the girl's gaze and question, and what appeared like contempt in her opinion of him. Again he became painfully conscious that there was a wide social difference between Miss Conklin and himself. He had been accustomed to more reticence, and such direct questioning seemed impertinent. But he was so completely under the spell of her beauty, that he answered with scarcely visible hesitation:
“I came out here because I wanted to study law, and wasn't rich enough to do it in the East. This school was the first position offered to me. I had to take it, but I intend, after a term or two, to find a place in a lawyer's office in some town, and get admitted to practice. If I'd had fifteen hundred dollars I could have done that in Boston or New York, but I suppose it will all come right in time.”
“If I'd been you I'd have stayed in New York,” and then, clasping her hands on her knee, and looking intently before her, she added, “When I get to New York—an' that won't be long—I'll stay there, you bet! I guess New York's good enough for me. There's style there,” and she nodded her head decisively as she spoke.
Miss Loo and Bancroft were among the latest arrivals at the Morrises'. She stood beside him while he hitched Jack to a post of the fence amidst a crowd of other horses, and they entered the house together. In due form she presented the schoolmaster to Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and smilingly produced three linen tablecloths as her contribution to the warming. After accepting the present with profuse thanks and unmeasured praise of it and of the giver, Mrs. Morris conducted the newcomers across the passage into the best sitting-room, which the young folk had already appropriated, leaving the second-best room to their elders.
In the small square apartment were some twenty boys and girls, ranging between sixteen and twenty-two years of age. The boys stood about at one end of the room, while the girls sat at the other end chattering and enjoying themselves. Bancroft did not go among those of his own sex, none of whom he knew, and whom he set down as mere uncouth lads. He found it more amusing to stand near the girls and talk with them. By so doing he unconsciously offended the young men.
Presently a tall youth came towards them: “I guess we'd better play somethin'?” “Forfeits! Mr. Stevens,” was a girl's quick reply, and it was arranged to play forfeits in a queer educational fashion. First of all Mr. Stevens left the room, presumably to think. When he came in again he went over to Miss Conklin and asked her to spell “forgive.” After a moment's pause she spelt it correctly. He retired slowly, and on his return stopped again in front of Miss Conklin with the word “reconciliation.” She withstood the test triumphantly. Annoyed apparently with the pains she took, Mr. Stevens, on his next entrance, turned to a pretty, quiet girl named Miss Black, and gave her “stranger,” with a glance at Bancroft, which spread a laugh among the boys. Miss Black began with “strai,” and was not allowed to go on, for Mr. Stevens at once offered his arm, and led her into the passage.
“What takes place outside?” asked Bancroft confidentially of the girl sitting nearest to him, who happened to be Miss Jessie Stevens. She replied with surprise:
“I guess they kiss each other!”
“Ah!—Now I understand,” he said to himself, and from that moment followed the proceedings with more interest. He soon found that successive pairs called each other out in turn, and he had begun to tire of the game, when Miss Jessie Stevens stopped before him and pertly gave the word “friendship.” Of course he spelt it wrongly, and accompanied her outside the door. As he kissed her cheek, she drew away her head quickly:
“I only called you out to give you a chance of kissin' Loo Conklin.”