“Why, all about how we came to—to—to find out we cared for each other,” Ned whispered, blunderingly enough but very earnest. “You know, Dot, it’s just wonderful——”
“You go on, dear,” said Dorothy, poking a gloved forefinger at him. “If you two sillies didn’t know you were in love with each other till you brought home the ring the other night, why everybody else in the neighborhood was aware of the fact æons and æons ago!”
“Huh?” grunted Ned, his eyes blinking in surprise.
“It was the most transparent thing in the world. Everybody around here saw how the wind blew.”
“You don’t mean it!” said the really astonished Ned. “Well! and I didn’t know it myself till I began to think how bad a time I was going to have without Jennie. I wish old Nat would play up to Tavia.”
Dorothy looked at him scornfully. “Well! of all the stupid people who ever lived, most men are it,” she thought. But what she said aloud was:
“I want to skate with Mr. Knapp, Nedward. You know he is our guest. You take Tavia.”
“Pshaw!” muttered her cousin as the girl in question appeared and Garry Knapp and the boys came in from the porch where the Westerner had been trying on Nat’s skating boots. “I can’t talk to the flyaway as I can to you. But I don’t blame you for wanting to skate with Knapp. He seems like a mighty fine fellow.”
Dorothy was getting the family’s opinion, one by one, of the man Tavia wickedly whispered Dorothy had “set her cap” for. The younger boys were plainly delighted with Garry Knapp. When the party got to the river Joe and Roger would scarcely let the guest and Dorothy get away by themselves.
Garry Knapp skated somewhat awkwardly at first, for he had not been on the ice for several years. But he was very sure footed and it was evident utterly unafraid.