“But if you were to do as you like what would you propose?”
“Taking a long walk in the country—I think that would be splendid. But I should have to go alone.”
“I have a better plan: take the car and go into the country—then walk! There’s no fun in walking in town. The roads are frozen, so there’s no mud. We could take a hamper and have a picnic.”
She eyed him with incredulous amusement.
“I thought you were a bright young man, and yet you propose that? We should undoubtedly meet our pastor and all the elders in our church and I’m not a bit anxious to scandalize the community. We’d look nice motoring out the front gate together!”
“There are more ways than one of reaching the wildwood. I should take the machine myself, and start toward town; you would lightly board the trolley and ride to the end of the line; and then what would be more natural than that I should pick you up?”
“That’s a delightful plan—ingenious and all that; but, my dear boy—suppose we should get smashed in the machine; then how would it look in the newspapers?”
“It would look very well in the Boston papers to-morrow morning,” he said watching her narrowly. “It would serve notice on the Brodericks of your existence, which it is only polite to assume has not otherwise been brought to their attention.”
“What else do you know?” she asked.
“Oh, I know nothing. I’m only guessing. As you say, I’m something of a mind-reader. They’d probably forgotten that there is a Mrs. Craighill; they invited the Colonel to their house; he thought it might be awkward to have to bring Mrs. Craighill into it—to ask to have her included in the invitation—they being so eminent—so Mrs. Craighill, being the most amiable of wives, stays at home and knits!”