“I see,” said she brightly. “And you want to warn me not to make a fool of myself, is that it? It’s awfully kind of you.”
Mr. Sikes was a poor dissembler. “Well, I was thinking more about Oliver making a fool of himself,” said he bluntly.
“But why, Mr. Sikes, do you keep all this a secret from him?” she cried, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “I think you ought to tell him he is engaged and not keep the poor boy in suspense. He hasn’t the remotest inkling of it.”
“Don’t you fool yourself,” said he stoutly.
“And who is the fortunate young lady?”
“We ain’t quite ready to make it public yet,” said Mr. Sikes, casting a sharp look toward the house and cocking his ear for sounds of Oliver’s footsteps on the stairs. “Which reminds me,” he went on hurriedly, lowering his voice, “I guess you’d better not mention it to him.”
“I sha’n’t, Mr. Sikes, if it will make you feel any more comfortable. But at least you can tell me this. Does the young lady know she is engaged?”
He had got in deeper than he intended.
“Did I say she was young?” he demanded craftily, trying to recall just how far he had already committed himself. “No, siree! You bet I didn’t. I’m too smart for that.”
“But does she know she is engaged?” persisted this disconcerting young woman.