The old man's words and his gentle touch had a wonderful effect on the boy; they
checked his impassioned outburst; but his pent-up heart was too full. He burst into tears and rushed headlong from the house.
For a time he walked aimlessly on, his mind in a tumult of rage. Then he began to come to himself. He saw the people as they passed him. He had eyes again for the street, and he wondered where he was going. He felt an overwhelming desire to talk to some one and to get sympathy, consolation, and perhaps support. But whither should he turn? If 'Liphalet Hodges had been at the old house, his steps would naturally have bent in that direction; but this refuge was no longer his. Then his mind began going over the people whom he knew, and no name so stuck in his fancy as that of Elizabeth. It was a hard struggle. He was bashful. Any other time he would not have done it, but now his great need created in him an intense desperation that made him bold. He turned and retraced his steps toward the Simpson house.
Elizabeth was leaning over the gate. The autumn evening was cool: she had a thin shawl about her shoulders. She was humming a song as Fred came up. His own agitation made her seem irritatingly calm.
She opened the gate and made room for him at her side.
"You seem dreadfully warm," she said, "and here I was getting ready to go in because it is so cool."
"I 've been walking very fast," he answered, hesitatingly.
"Don't you think you 'd better go in, so as not to take cold?"
"Oh, I don't care if I do take cold." The speech sounded rude. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise.
"What 's the matter with you?" she asked.