"Some one has been mean enough, so a very dear friend told us, to insinuate that—that father knew of it in time to have prevented it," she said.
"Eva, why should you mention such a thing. Mr. Lyman couldn't give it credence, even for a moment." She frowned.
"Mr. McElwin was kind enough to come to me the next morning," said Lyman. "He was very much moved, and I feel that if he could he would have the ruffians punished."
"I thank you for saying that, Mr. Lyman," Mrs. McElwin spoke up. "I know he would." She glanced about and appeared to be nervous under the gaze of the people on the hill. "I don't know what they think of us three sitting here together," she said. "People out here are peculiar."
"Let them think," the girl replied.
Lyman looked down and saw her shapely foot on the rock. The light was strong where she sat, and he noticed a freckle on her cheek, and this slight blemish drew her closer to him.
"But we must respect their thoughts," the mother replied.
"We should not put ourselves out on account of their prejudices," Lyman was bold enough to remark. The girl smiled at him.
"Perhaps not," Mrs. McElwin weakly agreed.
"Perhaps not!" Eva repeated. "Mother, you don't seem to think that I am just as human as any of those girls up there, that I have practically the same feelings. But I am, and I am not a bit better than they—not any better than that girl up there under the tree talking to that young man. Why, he's from town."