“All wrong,” said Pats. “This is a temple built for lovers: shady, spacious, and jammed full of mystery–and safe.”
140“But it’s the spaciousness and mystery that make it so like a temple and suggest serious thoughts.”
“Not to a healthy mind. Oh, no! This gloom is here for a purpose. Pious thoughts should seek the light, but lovers need obscurity. They always have and they always will.”
A few steps farther on he stopped and faced her, still holding her hand: “If you will feed the hens to-night, bring in the wood and wash the dishes, you may embrace me once again–now, right here.”
She snatched away her head. He sprang forward to catch her–but she was away, beyond his reach. She ran on ahead and Pats, after a short pursuit, gave up the chase, for his fallible legs were still unfit for speed. With a mocking laugh and a wave of the hand she hastened on toward the cottage. Following more leisurely he watched the graceful figure in the white dress hurrying on before him until it was lost among the pines.
Just at the edge of the woods, not a hundred feet from the house, he stopped. Standing behind a tree so that Elinor, if she came to the door, could not see him, he whistled three notes. These notes, clear and full, were in imitation of 141a quail. And he did it exceedingly well. The imitation was masterly.
But no one appeared at the cottage door, and after a short silence he repeated the call.
“Perfect!”
Pats started and turned about.
“A very clever hoax!”