“Did Mark come back yesterday, Marilyn?”
The girl drew a quick breath and brought back her eyes from the hills, but she did not look at the young man: “No, father he didn't come.”
Who the deuce was Mark? Of course there would be several, but there was always one. Billy and Mark! It was growing interesting.
But Billy and Mark were not mentioned again, though a deep gravity seemed to have settled into the eyes of the family since their names had come up. Laurie decided to speak of the weather and the roads:
“Glorious weather we're having,” he chirped out condescendingly, “But you certainly have the limit for roads. What's the matter with the highway? Had a Detour right in the best part of the road. Bridge down, it said, road flooded! Made the deuce of a time for me—!”
“Bridge?” remarked Marilyn looking up thoughtfully.
“Flood?” echoed the minister sharply.
“Yes. About two miles back where the highway crosses this valley. Put me in some fix. Had a bet on you know. Date with a lady. Staked a lot of money on winning, too. Hard luck,” Then he looked across at Marilyn's attentive face. Ah! He was getting her at last! More on that line.
“But it'll not be all loss,” he added gallantly with a gesture of admiration toward her, “You see I didn't have any idea I was going to meet you.”
But Marilyn's eyes were regarding him soberly, steadily, analytically, without an answering smile. It was as if she did not like what he had said—if indeed she had heard it at all—as if she were offended at it. Then the eyes look on an impersonal look and wandered thoughtfully to the mountains in the distance. Laurie felt his cheeks burn. He felt almost embarrassed again, like during the prayer. Didn't the girl know he was paying her a compliment? Or was she such a prude that she thought him presuming on so slight an acquaintance? Her father was speaking: