"Not now!"
"Aw, come on. That's the part I like best. I bet he could see in the dark like a cat. Couldn't he now? Couldn't he see everything just the same, night or day?"
"There are the ducks!" Hertha cried, and hurried him to where the birds paddled in the lake and gave entertainment enough to push Tom-of-the-Woods into Bob's limbo of forgetfulness if not into hers.
The week went wearily on. The warm days were conducive to idleness and in her discouragement Hertha worked erratically, studying far into the evening one night to drop her books entirely the next. On Thursday as she sat in her room looking idly at the sunset light as it faded from the sky, Mrs. Pickens knocked at the door.
"May I come in?" she asked. "Don't make a light," as Hertha having given her a seat started to strike a match; "it's pleasant to talk in the dark."
The two sat near one another looking into the trees.
"I'm thinking of a plan for the summer." Hertha was the first to break the silence.
"Not one that would mean leaving here, I hope?"
"It would mean leaving here. If I needed it would you give me a recommendation as a nursery governess?"
The question was utterly unexpected, and Mrs. Pickens answered with a jest. "Certainly. Shall I count Dick as the babe whom you have been teaching?"