Polly viewed him in alarm, while Joel smacked his lips. “We remember those doughnuts, don’t we, Dave,” poking the college instructor in the ribs.
And then they all hurried in, Jasper’s arm around Polly, while his children hung to his hand; for he had brought out a new piece of music he wanted to try with Polly before dinner.
On the way to the music-room, Joel picked up a little book from one of the window-niches in the big hall. “Whose is this?” he asked, carelessly whirling the leaves of a Greek poem.
“That’s Miss Loughead’s, I believe,” said Robert Bingley, who stood next, and looking over his shoulder.
“Impossible!” exclaimed Joel impulsively. “What, belong to that little thing! Why, man alive, she never knew enough to understand that there was such a book.” And then he turned and met Amy Loughead’s blue eyes.
CHAPTER XV.
SOME HINGHAM CALLS.
“PHRONSIE,” said Joel desperately, “I can’t take Miss Loughead with us.”
“O Joey! you promised,” said Phronsie in a grieved way.
“But I can’t do it—do beg off for me some way. Why, it’s impossible for me to look the girl in the face after what I’ve said. How I could ever have spoken so, I don’t see,” went on Joel remorsefully.
Phronsie was about to say something; but thinking better of it, she only smiled comfortingly.