“I—I don’t believe so,” Cal stammered. “Tomorrow’s Sunday and we go to church in the morning—”
“Oh, if you don’t want to!” exclaimed Molly with a toss of her head. “That’s different. [You’re a very horrid, rude boy, Cal], and—and perhaps Aunt Matilda is quite right!”
She turned and pushed her way through the hedge and out of sight. Cal looked after her, wavering between an impulse to call her back and apologize and a sensation of vast relief. After a moment he turned away whistling and went into the house. He was sorry he had offended her, for she was a real nice girl, after all, but perhaps it was just as well, for if she remained angry with him she probably wouldn’t bother them any more. When the others came back he said nothing of having seen Molly and hoped that Marm hadn’t observed him talking to her across the fence. If she had she made no allusion to it.
[“You’re a very horrid, rude boy, Cal”]
Being Saturday night there was no study required and the boys were free to do as they pleased. It pleased them to remain out of doors until it was quite dark, for the evening was warm for the time of year. There was a tennis foursome that ended in a battle, with tennis balls for missiles, involving the entire company. Afterwards they went indoors and had music. Cal was called on to sing and give his entire repertoire, Ned playing his accompaniments. After they had “Yo-heave-ho’d” to their hearts’ content they went upstairs and ended the evening with a grand pillow-fight, Den and Sun Parlor versus Ice Chest and Smellery, that lasted with unabated vigor until Marm requested a cessation of hostilities.
Cal and Ned got on together without embarrassment as long as there were others about, but as soon as they were alone they found nothing to say and the coolness was very apparent. Tonight, as they were destined to do on many nights in the future, they undressed and got to bed without the exchange of more than a dozen words.