“Miss Loughead,” said Joel awkwardly, going into the music-room where she stood alone, turning over some of Polly’s music, “I don’t know as you’ll go with me—I’m sure I shouldn’t, if the cases were reversed; but I was to take my sister Phronsie and you on the driving-party to the Glen yesterday, you know.” He paused, having come to the length of his chain, and stared helplessly at her.
“Yes,” said Amy.
“Well, now it’s Hingham, instead; and Grandpapa wants Phronsie to go with him, so it leaves you and me out in the cold,” he said with an attempt at a laugh.
Amy said nothing, so he had to plunge on. “And if you’ll be willing under the circumstances to let me drive you, why, I’ll do it,” finished Joel desperately.
“Do you wish to, Mr. Pepper?” asked Amy, raising a pair of clear blue eyes to his, “because do not really try to do it—to—make up—for anything. I’d rather you didn’t,” she said earnestly.
“I do wish it,” said Joel heartily, “if you are willing—that’s the question. Miss Loughead, I never was so sorry in all my life for anything,” he declared; and he hung his head, wishing he were small enough to be whipped, and be done with it.
“Don’t feel distressed about it,” said Amy. “I was a little goose, Mr. Pepper, in the old days; and I just wasted my time, and I wouldn’t study; and I worried Polly dreadfully.” It was now her turn to look distressed, and Joel cried out, “Don’t look so, I beg of you.”
“And you were quite right in believing I couldn’t, or I wouldn’t, study now,” said Amy. “I don’t blame you, Mr. Pepper.” She put out her hand, which Joel seized remorsefully.
“Will you go?” he cried eagerly, and hanging to it,—“will you?”
“Yes, I will go,” said Amy Loughead, pulling away her hand, and smiling brightly.