The evening came, and the Honorable Mr. Newt rose and walked about the room.
“How slowly the time passes!” he said, pettishly. “I can’t stand it.”
It was nine o’clock. Suddenly he sprang up from beside Kitty Dunham, who was silently working.
“No,” said he, “I really can not stand it. I’ll run over to town, and be back by midnight. I do want to see the old place once more before that long journey,” he added, with emphasis, as he put on his coat and hat. He ran from the room, and was just going out of the house when he heard a muffled voice calling to him from up stairs.
“Why, Kitty, what is it?” he asked, as he stopped.
There was no answer. Alarmed for a moment, he leaped up the stairs. She stood waiting for him at the door of the room.
“Well!” exclaimed he, hastily.
“You forgot to kiss me, Abel,” she said.
He took her by the shoulders, and looked at her before him. In her eyes there were pity, and gentleness, and love.
“Fool!” he said, half-pleased, half-vexed—kissed her, and rushed out into the street.