“Well, I was afraid he was,” Mrs. Hazard laughed. “It’s all in the point of view, isn’t it? Do you think you ought to walk so much, Jeff? You must be careful and not get too tired.”
“Oh, I don’t mind it. It’s just my shoulders that get sort of tired sometimes, but they soon feel all right again. I think I’ll go up and put some decent clothes on, Hope. It won’t take me very long.”
“And I’m going to do the same,” Hope replied. “And it will take me a full half-hour. So you needn’t hurry. We’ve got plenty of time, haven’t we?”
“Over an hour,” Jeffrey replied. “So you can just doll yourself all up, Hope.”
“Doesn’t he use awful language, Lady?” asked Hope. “I’d be ashamed if I were a senator’s son, wouldn’t you? I’ll be all ready in just exactly half an hour, Jeff.”
“All right; I’ll be waiting for you.”
When he reached the head of the stairs he noticed that Mr. Hanks’ door was partly open. It was usually closed tight when the instructor was inside, and Jeffrey wondered. And he wondered more a moment later when the sound of quick, nervous footsteps reached him. He paused a moment and listened. Back and forth paced Mr. Hanks, the length of the room, the tail of his coat appearing at the opening of the door each time as he turned.
“I wonder,” reflected Jeffrey, “what the trouble is with Nancy. He sounds like a caged lion. I guess somebody must have turned in some pretty bad papers. Hope it wasn’t me!”
True to her promise, Hope was ready at the end of the half-hour, looking very neat and pretty in her blue dress. Jeffrey had changed his old clothes for a suit of dark gray, and they were a very nice-looking pair of youngsters as they left the cottage. Jeffrey said something complimentary about Hope’s gown, and Hope smiled demurely down at its trim folds.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” she asked. “I like blue better than any other color. I suppose I ought to like crimson, oughtn’t I? Because that’s the Crofton color. But I couldn’t wear crimson, could I? Not with yellow hair.”