“Yes; I believe I ought,” replied Hazel.
“It’s going to be a lovely evening,” said Mr Chute.
“Is it?” said Hazel wearily.
“Yes, that it is. I say—it’s to do you good, you know—come and have a nice walk to-night.”
“Come—and have a walk!” said Hazel wonderingly.
“Yes,” he said excitedly, for he had been screwing himself up to this for days; “come and let’s have a walk together. I—that is—you know—I—’pon my soul, Miss Hazel, I can’t hardly say what I mean, but I’m very miserable about you, and if you’d go for a walk along with me to-night, it would do me no end of good.”
“Mr Chute, I could not. It is impossible,” cried Hazel quickly.
“Oh no; it ain’t impossible,” he said quickly; “it’s because you’re so particular you won’t. Look here, then—but don’t go.”
“I must go, Mr Chute; I am tired, and I cannot stay to talk.”
“Look here: will you go for a walk to-night, if I take mother too!”