She went back to her sewing as Ruth went out of the room. In came Neale in cap, goggles, and leggings.
“Oh, Neale! Have you got the car out?”
“Why, Aggie!” cried the boy, without replying to her question, and eyeing the work in her lap askance. “I am surprised! You’re just like Satan—as we had it in our lesson last Sunday—aren’t you?”
“Well! I like your impudence. In what way, please?” demanded Agnes.
“Why, you’re sewing tears, aren’t you?” chuckled Neale. “And the Bible says the Evil One ‘sowed tares.’”
“Oh, don’t! It’s too great a shock. But, are you going out with the car?”
“Been out,” said the boy. “I took Mr. Howbridge over to Brenton Woods to catch the train for the West on the Q. V. We won’t see him again until we’re back from our tour.”
“Oh, yes! Our tour!” repeated Agnes; but this time she did not clasp her hands in ecstasy. She looked at her pricked finger ruefully instead.
“And coming back,” went on Neale, “I happened to run across Mr. Maynard.”
“Oh, yes!” cried Agnes again, but in an entirely different tone.