“And it didn't occur to you that there might be some other reason? You forgot, I suppose, that he and I were appointed on the Ticket Committee for this very dance?”
He had forgotten it entirely. Now he remembered perfectly the meeting of the French Relief Society at which the appointment had been made. In fact Helen herself had told him of it at the time. For the moment he was staggered, but he rallied promptly.
“Committee meetings may do as an excuse for some things,” he said, “but they don't explain the rest—his calls here every other evening and—and so on. Honest now, Helen, you know he hasn't been running after you in this way just because he is on that committee with you; now don't you?”
They were almost at the parsonage. The light from Mr. Kendall's study window shone through the leaves of the lilac bush behind the white fence. Helen started to speak, but hesitated. He repeated his question.
“Now don't you?” he urged.
“Why, why, yes, I suppose I do,” she said, slowly. “I do know—now. But I didn't even think of such a thing until—until you came that evening and told me what Issy Price said.”
“You mean you didn't guess at all?”
“Well—well, perhaps I—I thought he liked to come—liked to—Oh, what is the use of being silly! I did think he liked to call, but only as a friend. He was jolly and lots of fun and we were both fond of music. I enjoyed his company. I never dreamed that there was anything more than that until you came and were so—disagreeable. And even then I didn't believe—until to-night.”
Again she hesitated. “To-night?” he repeated. “What happened to-night?”
“Oh nothing. I can't tell you. Oh, why can't friends be friends and not. . . . That is why I spoke to you, Albert, why I wanted to have this talk with you. I was going away so soon and I couldn't bear to go with any unfriendliness between us. There mustn't be. Don't you see?”