“George, you've said enough. No one but you would have been permitted to say as much. You don't understand.”
“Maybe not, but, Ros, I don't like to have people around here call you—”
“I don't care a continental what they call me. I don't want them to know who I am, but for public opinion generally I care nothing.”
He leaned back in his chair. His face was in shadow and I could not see it, but his tone was grave enough.
“You think you don't,” he said, slowly, “but there may come a time when you will. There may come a time when you get so interested in something, or some person, that the thought of what folks would say if—if anything went wrong would keep you awake night after night. Oh, I tell you, Ros—Hello, Nellie! thought you'd gone South to pick those berries yourself. Two saucers full! Well, I suppose I must eat the other to save it—unless Ros here wants both.”
I said one would be quite sufficient for the present, and we three chatted until Mrs. Dean came over and monopolized the chat.
“Don't go, Roscoe,” protested the matron. “The Cap'n's here and he'll want to talk to you. He's dreadful interested in you just now. Don't talk about nobody else, scurcely. You set still and I'll go fetch him.”
But I refused to “set.” I knew the cause of Captain Jedediah's interest, and what he wished to talk about. I rose and announced that I would stroll about a bit. Taylor spoke to me as I was leaving.
“Ros,” he said, earnestly, “you think of what I told you, will you?”
I saw a group of people hurrying toward the entrance of the grounds and I followed them, curious as to the cause of the excitement. An automobile had stopped by the gate. Sim Eldredge came hastening up and seized me by the arm.