"Oh, I cannot remember,—he startled me so. I was dreadfully frightened, although I am sure he meant no harm."
"No harm," Hugh repeated wrathfully. "It was sufficient harm for him to dare speak to you at all."
"No, but it was not," the girl declared emphatically. "He and I are acquainted, you know—after a fashion. It was not the first time he has spoken to me, nor I to him, for that matter."
Hugh's blue eyes flashed with anger.
"I have a great mind to make it the last!" he exclaimed with hot indignation, and half starting from his seat.
But Dorothy pushed him back. "Now mark this, Hugh Knollys," she said warningly,—"if you say aught to him, and so make me the subject of unseemly brawling, I'll never speak to you again,—no, not the longest day we both live!" And she brought her small clenched fist down with enforcing emphasis upon Hugh's broad palm.
"What a little spitfire you are, Dot!" And he smiled at her once more.
"Spitfire, is it? You seem to have a plentiful supply of compliments for me this day." She spoke almost gayly, pleased as she was to have diverted him so easily.
He was now staring at her with a new expression in his eyes, and appeared to be turning over some matter in his mind; and Dorothy remained silent, wondering what it might be.
"Dorothy," he said presently, and very gravely, "I wonder will you promise me something?"