“Why—why—well, by George!” he exclaimed. “Helen—how—how did you know? Who told you?”
“No one told me. But I think I can even guess who it is you have found. It is Madeline Fosdick, isn't it?”
His amazement now was so open-mouthed as well as open-eyed that she could not help smiling.
“Don't! Don't stare at me like that,” she whispered. “Every one is looking at you. There is old Captain Pease on the other side of the street; I'm sure he thinks you have had a stroke or something. Here! Walk down our road a little way toward home with me. We can talk as we walk. I'm sure,” she added, with just the least bit of change in her tone, “that your Madeline won't object to our being together to that extent.”
She led the way down the side street toward the parsonage and he followed her. He was still speechless from surprise.
“Well,” she went on, after a moment, “aren't you going to say anything?”
“But—but, Helen,” he faltered, “how did you know?”
She smiled again. “Then it IS Madeline,” she said. “I thought it must be.”
“You—you thought—What made you think so?”
For an instant she seemed on the point of losing her patience.