She had lost her bearings on the river, but when they had clambered to the top of the bank she found that they were near the Kinneys’. The road was a much-frequented highway, and she was sorry now that they had left the canoe; but Jerry, leading the way along a rough path that clung close to the river, continued to philosophize, wholly unconscious of the neighborhood’s associations for Nan.
Where the margin between the river and the road widened they sat on a log while Jerry amplified his views of life, with discreet applications to Nan’s case as he understood it. He was a cheery and hopeful soul, and in the light of her knowledge of him she marveled at his clear understanding of things. He confided to her that he meant to get on; he wanted to be somebody. She was wholly sympathetic and told him that he had already done a great deal; he had done a lot better than she had; and it counted for more because no one had helped him.
As they passed the Kinneys’ on their way back to the canoe, a roadster whizzed out of the gate and turned toward town. They both recognized Copeland. As he passed, his eyes fell upon them carelessly; then he glanced back and slowed down.
“Now we’re in for it!” said Nan uncomfortably.
“I guess I’m the one that’s in for it,” returned Jerry ruefully.
Copeland left his car at the roadside and walked rapidly toward them. He nodded affably to Jerry and extended his hand eagerly to Nan.
“This is great good luck! Grace is at home; why didn’t you come in?”
“Oh, Mr. Amidon is showing me the river; we just left the canoe to come up for a view from the bank.”
“Why not come back to Kinneys’; I want to see you; and this is a fine chance to have a talk.”
Jerry walked away and began throwing pebbles into the river.