“An’ he knew that you’d find me here, did he?”
“He said either at the school-house or around here somewhere,” I admitted, weakly. ‘An’ there ain’t nothin’ the matter at the farm?’
“He don’t want me for nothin’ special?” pursued Jeff, still looking me through and through.
“He didn’t say,” I made hesitating answer, but for the life of me, I could not keep from throwing a tell-tale look in the direction of his companion in the blue gingham dress.
A wink could not have told Jeff more. He gave a little bitter laugh, and stared above my head at the willow-plumes fora minute’s meditation. Then he tossed his fish-pole over to me and laughed again.
“Keep that for yourself, if you want it,” he said, in a voice not quite his own, but robustly enough. “I sha’n’t need it any more. Tell pa I ain’t a-comin’!”
“Oh, Tom!” Esther broke in, anxiously, “would you do that?”
He held up his hand with a quiet, masterful gesture, as if she were the pupil and he the teacher. “Tell him,” he went on, the tone falling now strong and true, “tell him and ma that I’m goin’ to Tecumseh to-night to enlist. If they’re willin’ to say good-by, they can let me know there, and I’ll manage to slip back for the day. If they ain’t willin’—why, they—they needn’t send word; that’s all.”
Esther had come up to him, and held his arm now in hers.
“You’re wrong to leave them like that!” she pleaded, earnestly, but Jeff shook his head.