He took my hand and held it, looking at me seriously.
"Suppose I were to walk up to the cottage tomorrow and ask for you?"
I gasped. He looked so capable of doing anything he took it into his head to do.
"Oh, you wouldn't," I said piteously. "Aunt Martha would—you are not in earnest."
"I suppose not," he said regretfully. "Of course I would not do anything that would cause you unpleasantness. But this must not—shall not be our last meeting."
"Aunt will not let me come to church again," I said.
"Does she ever take a nap in the afternoon?" he queried.
I wriggled my parasol about in the dust uneasily.
"Sometimes."
"I shall be at the old boat tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty," he said.