"Great Caesar! Would you let a pair of shackles like that be sprung on an innocent man without a moment's warning?"
"What's this?" asked Gilbert, in the alarm that the name of old Mrs. McKitterick always raised in his breast. "What's going to happen now?"
"It's only a pair of mittens, Dr. Allen," said Miss Marjorie. "Mrs. McKitterick knit them, and if they take first prize they are to be given to you."
"It was too bad to tell," said Elsie.
"No, it wasn't!" cried her brother. "They're to be presented to him at Christmas, and he'll need three months to get resigned. Come along and see them."
As they threaded their way toward the hall Malcolm glanced at the other young man significantly. Gilbert understood.
"Miss Cameron," he said, "I am all alone in my buggy. Won't you drive home with me?"
She glanced up at him with one of her swift, searching looks. "Did Malcolm ask you to relieve him?" she whispered. This strong, grave girl did not often laugh, Gilbert had noticed, but when she was amused her eyes danced. They were sparklingly radiant now.
He felt his face growing hot. "I—I——" he began.
"Oh, never mind," she cried, and this time she permitted her lips to join her eyes in a smile. "Don't apologize. I know why he did it. He's so transparent, poor lad. I knew last night, when he went over to see you, that he had some tremendous scheme on foot."