“Is it late? I had not thought of the time. I was enjoying myself so hugely—but, yes, by Jove, there’s the village clock striking eleven, as I live! and we really must go.” Then he added: “This is a jolly place to sit. Let’s come here often, and—” turning to Rena, “if you ever want to look in the well, either by moonlight, or starlight, or sunlight, I am the man to hold the glass and see that you don’t fall in, and Rex, I am sure, will do the same for Irene; hey, Rex?”
“I? oh, excuse me,” and Rex started to his feet with a feeling that he had been sitting in a pool of water. “I feel rather damp,” he said. “This bench must have been wet with the dew. I hope you haven’t taken cold.”
None of us knew to whom this last remark was addressed, for he did not look at either of us, but Irene appropriated it and answered:
“Oh, no. I told you I never take cold. It is all in your mind, and like Tom I have enjoyed being out of doors immensely.”
“I hope you don’t take cold either, Miss Rena—” Reginald continued. The last word was spoken involuntarily, and with a start he exclaimed: “I beg your pardon. I should have said, Miss Burdick; but, you see, there are so many of you, it is rather confusing. I didn’t know there were two until recently.”
He was talking at random and Tom thought he had lost his senses, while Irene frowned and bit her lips with vexation. Rena, on the contrary, laughed and said:
“Two Miss Burdicks and two Irenes are enough to rattle any one. Please let me be Miss Rena, if you like. It will suit me perfectly and is what every one calls me.”
“Thanks, I will,” Reginald said, keeping rather close to Tom and Rena as we left the pines.
We had protested against the gentlemen accompanying us home, as the gate in the lane where they would leave us for the McPherson place was very near the house. But they persisted, and when we reached the yard Tom sat down upon the bench under the maple as if he intended to spend the night. Reginald was in a hurry and said so, and gave his hand to Rena to say good-night, wondering why he felt such a sudden glow in his whole body. No dampness now, no thought that he had been sitting in a pool of water, no thought of anything except that he was very warm and the warmth was communicated to him by the girl’s hand resting in his. With the pressure of Irene’s hand which he took next the dampness returned and he could have sworn that he had sat in a bucket of water all the evening. Still he was very gracious as he said good-night, hoping to see her again and asking if she was fond of driving. She was a coward, afraid even of old farm-horses, but she answered promptly:
“Oh, so much! There is nothing I like better, especially in the country,” while visions of a tête-à-tête with him and no Tom to look on flitted through her mind. But Rex had no idea of a drive alone with her, and her illusion was at once dispelled by his saying: