Bartley was on his feet in a minute.
"What does this mean," he cried. "Is it true, didn't I offend her?"
"No, you didn' 'fend huh. She's been pinin' fu' you, 'twell she's growed right peekid."
"Sh, auntie, do you mean to tell me that Mim—Miss Harrison cares for me?"
"You go an' ax huh ag'in."
Bartley needed no second invitation. He flew to the cottage. Mima's heart gave a great throb when she saw him coming up the walk, and she tried to harden herself against him. But her lips would twitch, and her voice would tremble as she said, "How do you do, Mr. Northcope?"
He looked keenly into her eyes.
"Have I been mistaken, Mima," he said, "in believing that I greatly offended you by asking you to be my wife? Do you—can you care for me, darling?"
The words stuck in her throat, and he went on, "I thought you were angry with me because I had taken advantage of your kindness to my father, or presumed upon any kindness that you may have felt for me out of respect to your brother's memory. Believe me, I was innocent of any such intention."
"Oh, it wasn't—it wasn't that!" she gasped.