"I suppose not," she answered frankly. "But, to tell the truth, I had not thought of such a thing until you mentioned it. We've not met a soul, save Hugh Knollys, who was riding into the inn yard as we came from Moll Pitcher's."
"And so you have been to consult Moll's oracle?" the young man said banteringly.
The white lids fell over the honest blue eyes that had been looking straight up into his own. The girl seemed greatly embarrassed, and her color deepened, while Dorothy only giggled, and slyly pinched the arm upon which her slender fingers were resting.
Mary gave her a quick glance of reproof. Then she raised her eyes and said hesitatingly, "We heard she was down from Lynn, on a visit to her father."
"You girls are bewitched with Moll Pitcher and her prophecies," he exclaimed with a laugh.
"Ah—but she tells such wonderful things," began Dorothy, impetuously. But Mary Broughton laid a small white hand over the red lips and glanced warningly at her companion.
"What did she tell?" the young man asked. But now Dorothy only smiled, and shook her head.
"Come, Dorothy," Mary said, "we had best get back to the boat." And she turned to go; but the younger girl hung back.
"Are you going to a meeting at the inn, Jack?" she inquired, looking at her brother.
"Little girls must not ask questions," he answered, yet smiling at her lovingly. "But do you hasten to the boat, and get home, Dot, you and Mary. It troubles me that you should be about here. Hurry home, now,—there's a good little girl." But he looked at both of them as he spoke.