His head went up and his arm dropped at his side. Virginia released his arms which she had clutched and, with reddened, telltale faces, they turned to Mrs. Curtis.
“We met in South Ridgefield, mother,” he told her, and the girl gave an embarrassed nod of agreement.
“Hum,” said Mrs. Curtis. The utterance meant little but her manner much. She disappeared only to return in a moment with a plate of doughnuts and a pitcher of milk. “Who is hungry?” she asked.
Among the young people, famine stalked abroad. In its relief, flushed faces regained their normal color and Helen’s mischievous giggles were quieted sufficiently for her to meet Joe with becoming gravity before giving her attention to her own sweetheart.
But alas, the course of true love is never smooth. Charles Augustus made energetic protest when he became aware that Helen proposed to offer him nourishment by hand after the manner in which infants but recently weaned are treated. “Lemme be! My hands aren’t lame,” he objected. An unhappy look spread over his face. “I get so tired sitting in this old chair. Every little while, too, mother rubs my leg and works it up and down. Ding bust it, that hurts.”
Helen, giving up her attempt to feed the boy, endeavored to sooth and comfort him. “In a week or so you will be running about without a sign of a crutch. Think of that. Won’t that be fine?”
“I should be out now,” he grumbled. “Something might happen to my hornet’s nest.”
“Don’t you worry,” Helen laughed. “Neither man nor beast will interfere with that.”
“How is Miss Knight?” Virginia asked Joe.
“Bossy as ever,” he answered.