I glanced at his face as we turned in our walk, but he moved his head away quickly.
"So it has been pleasant?" I said.
"Pleasant?" he cried. "Why it has been a little foretaste of heaven. Say, I like you, and I know you like her by the manner in which you explained everything to her. Don't you think she's a jolly nice girl?"
"Who?"
"Why, Miss Barbara Herndon," he cried.
"Oh!" I gurgled. "You took me by surprise, and I hardly knew—well, I didn't know what had made the trip so pleasant."
He put out his hand, and I gripped it warmly. There was something clean and good about the youngster. When he glanced up at me as I took his hand, I looked into a face that was as open as the day—a face that possessed all the passionate purity of youth, and my grip was sincere. One didn't ask for credentials in dealing with Will Holman.
"I liked you from the start," he said, "but I wanted the opinion of the girls. That's why I put Miss Barbara up to the game of firing questions at you about that silly business on the wharf."
"And did I pass muster?" I queried.
"Sure you did!" he cried enthusiastically. "Miss Barbara Herndon says that you are true blue, and Miss Edith—"