I laugh too.
"You might as well tell me before you go what the remark that I quenched was? One always longs to hear the things that people are going to say, and do not! Have no fear! your nose is quite safe!"
"It is nothing much," he answers, with self-conscious stiffness, looking down and poking about the little dark pebbles with his cane; "nothing that you would care about."
"Care about!" echo I, leaning my back against the dusk house-wall, and staring up at the sombre purple of the sky. "Well, no! I dare say not! What should I care to hear now? I am sure I should be puzzled to say! But, as I have been so near it, I may as well be told."
"As you will!" he answers, with an air of affected carelessness. "It is only that, if they do not come to-morrow—"
"Fourth time!" interject I, counting on my fingers and smiling.
"If you wish—if you like—if it would be any comfort to you—I shall be happy—I mean I shall be very glad to come up again about the same time to-morrow evening."
"Will you?" (eagerly, with a great accession of exhilaration in my voice). "Are you serious? I shall be so much obliged if you will, but—"
"It is impossible that any one can say any thing," he interrupts, hastily. "There could be no harm in it!"
"Harm!" repeat I, laughing. "Well, hardly! I cannot fancy a more innocent amusement."