“It is when my umbrella turns inside out that I am convinced of the total depravity of inanimate things,” she said gaily.
The raindrops sparkled on her shining hair; its loosened rings curled around her neck and forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes big and starry. Her companion looked down at her admiringly. She felt herself blushing under his gaze. Who could he be? Why, there was a bit of the Redmond white and scarlet pinned to his coat lapel. Yet she had thought she knew, by sight at least, all the Redmond students except the Freshmen. And this courtly youth surely was no Freshman.
“We are schoolmates, I see,” he said, smiling at Anne’s colors. “That ought to be sufficient introduction. My name is Royal Gardner. And you are the Miss Shirley who read the Tennyson paper at the Philomathic the other evening, aren’t you?”
“Yes; but I cannot place you at all,” said Anne, frankly. “Please, where do you belong?”
“I feel as if I didn’t belong anywhere yet. I put in my Freshman and Sophomore years at Redmond two years ago. I’ve been in Europe ever since. Now I’ve come back to finish my Arts course.”
“This is my Junior year, too,” said Anne.
“So we are classmates as well as collegemates. I am reconciled to the loss of the years that the locust has eaten,” said her companion, with a world of meaning in those wonderful eyes of his.
The rain came steadily down for the best part of an hour. But the time seemed really very short. When the clouds parted and a burst of pale November sunshine fell athwart the harbor and the pines Anne and her companion walked home together. By the time they had reached the gate of Patty’s Place he had asked permission to call, and had received it. Anne went in with cheeks of flame and her heart beating to her fingertips. Rusty, who climbed into her lap and tried to kiss her, found a very absent welcome. Anne, with her soul full of romantic thrills, had no attention to spare just then for a crop-eared pussy cat.
That evening a parcel was left at Patty’s Place for Miss Shirley. It was a box containing a dozen magnificent roses. Phil pounced impertinently on the card that fell from it, read the name and the poetical quotation written on the back.
“Royal Gardner!” she exclaimed. “Why, Anne, I didn’t know you were acquainted with Roy Gardner!”