“Kit is coming; I saw him ’way down the street,” volunteered little Anne. Then she ran on, leaving Anne to wonder at her apparent knowledge of the intended meeting.
“Well, small Anne!” cried Richard Latham as little Anne came running down the broad walk through the centre of his garden. “You surely are Anne, the well-come! I feel precisely like having a comrade of seven-most-eight! I’m half afraid you are too sedate for me, Miss Berkley! Do you think you can stoop to play with a poet who has finished his play and arranged for its production, and with a man who is too happy to be merely a man? Anne, have I slender, pointed ears? And do you chance to see pipes sticking out of my pocket?”
“Your ears are slender, but I think they are round at the top,” said little Anne, conscientiously examining them as Richard stooped to her. “And there aren’t any pipes. Don’t you smoke cigars, anyway?”
“Oh, not smoking pipes! I thought you, of all people, would know! I mean pipes like Pan’s. The fauns play on the sort I mean. Never mind; perhaps I am a man. Do you happen to have a string with you? No? Pity! What I really am is a rose-coloured air-balloon, and I’m liable to sail over the house-tops unless you tie a string to me and hold me fast. Have you the string, little Anne?”
Little Anne was laughing, yet her eyes were gravely puzzled.
“Must I tie you down?” she asked, not realizing that she had come to do this and more. “I have no string.”
“Then let us run a race up and down the broad path, and around the little paths on the right. Then up and down the middle again, and around the little paths on the left! I can run faster than you can, but, on the other hand, I can’t see you and you can see me, so it will be a fair game. If you catch me I pay a forfeit. I buy you a box of candy. If I catch you, you pay me a forfeit; you take the box of candy that I buy for you! I think that’s the best-arranged arrangement that all the aggregated arrangers ever arranged!” Richard laughed, triumphantly.
Little Anne danced up and down.
“I do think you are the funniest! And nicest!” she cried. “I should think you would make plays and poetry! I do love Kit dearly; he’s so nice you have to, but you think of the most things I ever! Why does Anne, Miss Anne, rather not marry you?”
Richard Latham’s hand stopped in mid-air on the way to pull down his hat in preparation for the race.