He shook his great head and knocked his pipe out.
"There's something amiss, child. Guess maybe it's the heat." He turned his eyes up to the blazing sun, as though to reassure himself that the heat was there.
Betty leant beside him on the rail. Her proximity, and the evident sadness of her whole manner, made him realize that he must not stay there. At that moment she looked such a pathetic little figure that he felt he could not long be responsible for what he said. He longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.
He could think of nothing to say for a long time, but at last he broke out with—
"You'd best not go back to the school this afternoon."
But the girl shook her head.
"It's not that," she said. Then she paused. Her eyes were fixed on the rushing water as it flowed beneath the bridge.
He watched her closely, and gradually a conviction began to grow in his mind.
"Dave," she went on at last, "we've always been such good friends, haven't we? You've always been so patient and kind with me when I have bothered you with my little troubles and worries. You never fail to help me out. It seems to me I can never quite do without your help. I—I"—she smiled more like her old self, and with relief the man saw some of the alarming shadows vanishing from her face, "I don't think I want to, either. I've had a long talk with Susan Hardwig this morning."
"Ah!"