"I—I'd like to buy them for her myself," went on the girl, in a wistful tone, "only Ingua is so proud that she won't accept gifts from me."
Still he remained silent.
"I wonder," she said, with obvious hesitation, "if you would allow me to give you the things, sir, and then you give them to Ingua, as if they came from yourself."
"No!" It was a veritable explosion, so fierce that she started back in terror. Then he rose from his chair, abruptly quitted the porch and walked down the path toward the bridge in his accustomed deliberate, dignified manner.
Ingua, overhearing his ejaculation, came to the open window to see what had caused it.
"Oh, it's you, Mary Louise, is it?" she exclaimed. "Thank goodness, you've drove Gran'dad off to the office. I thought he'd planted himself in that chair for the whole day."
"Are you ready to go to Miss Huckins'?" asked Mary Louise.
"I will be, in a few minutes. Gran'dad was late gett'n' up this mornin' and that put things back. He had the 'wakes' ag'in last night."
"Oh; did he walk out, then?"
"Got back at about daylight and went to bed. That's why he slep' so late."