“I know you will, Ros,” he said. “I told you I knew you.”
“If ever I can do anything—”
He interrupted me.
“There's one thing you can do right now,” he said. “That's get out and mix. That'll please me as much as anything. And begin right off. Why, see here, the Methodist society is going to give a strawberry festival on the meeting-house lawn next Thursday night. About everybody's going, Nellie and I included. You come, will you?”
I hesitated. I had heard about the festival, but I certainly had not contemplated attending.
“Come!” he urged. “You won't say no to the first favor I ask you. Promise me you'll be on hand.”
Before I could answer, we heard the door of Mother's room open. George and I hastened into the dining-room. Doctor Quimby and Nellie Dean were there. Nellie rushed over to her lover's side.
“You bad boy,” she cried. “You're wet through.”
Doctor Quimby turned to me.
“Your ma's getting on all right,” he declared. “About all that ails her now is that she wants to see you.”