There was a rustle of leaves just behind us and a startled exclamation. I turned and saw Lute Rogers standing there in the path, an expression on his face which I shall not attempt to describe, for no description could do justice to it. We looked at Lute and he looked at us.
He was the first to recover.
“My time!” exclaimed Lute. “My TIME!”
He turned and fled.
“Come here!” I shouted after him. “Come back here this minute! Lute, come back!”
Lute came, looking shamefaced and awkward.
“Where were you going?” I demanded.
“I—I was cal'latin' to go and tell Dorindy,” he faltered.
“You'll tell nobody. Nobody, do you hear! I'll tell Dorinda myself, when it is necessary. What were you doing here? spying on me in that fashion.”
“I—I wan't spyin', Ros. Honest truth, I wan't. I—I didn't know you and she was—was—”