“Well, when can your ‘cousin’ come over to see you again, Madge?” asked Tom with a smile.
He held out his hand, but Madge affected not to see it. Tom felt uncomfortable, and then, as if she realized it, she said to him:
“Well, ‘Cousin’ Tom, I don’t know that you’ll care to come over to see me again,” and with that she turned and walked away.
Tom remained staring after her for a moment. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he wheeled and joined Phil, who had been a silent witness to the little scene.
“Say, aren’t girls odd?” asked Tom.
“Very,” agreed his chum. “But you said that once before, you know.”
“No; did I?” asked Tom, and he was rather silent on the way back to Randall.
Meanwhile, Langridge and Gerhart had spent much time strolling about the chapel walk. It was getting dusk, and the fading light of the perfect fall day was shining through the wonderful, stained-glass windows of the little church. The long casements, with representations of biblical scenes, were a soft glow of delicate hues. But the two lads had no eyes for these beauties.
“I think that will put a crimp in his playing!” Gerhart remarked, as he paused to light an oriental cigarette, or, rather, something that passed for one.