"Only just speak," said John.
"And—and——" Betty's voice quavered with anxiety—"shan't you run away with me?"
"Mightn't" said John. He sent another stone speeding down the road, and Betty watched it with misty eyes, as she trudged along behind him. She did not speak.
"You should have cleared when I coughed," said John. "I told you I'd cough, but you sat there reading and wouldn't look up."
Still Betty was silent.
"You'd give the whole blessed show away," said John. "What's the good of running away and being brought back to school. That comes of being a girl."
And then he looked at her and saw the tears were running down her cheeks and her lips quivering.
"You're crying!" he said, turning round to her sharply.
"Oh, I'm not," said Betty, and dragged her bonnet further over her face. "That horrid stone of yours made a d-dust, and its—it's got in my eyes."
John laughed. "If you do run away," he said, "what shall you do?"