Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair.
“Twenty-five?” she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity of youth: “That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I’ll find out before that time.”
“I think you will,” Renmark answered.
They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of her brother.
“Hello, you two!” he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. “It seems the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual.”
Margaret rose with dignity.
“We are cataloguing,” she said severely.
“Oh, that’s what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or is two company when they’re cataloguing? Have you any idea what time it is?”
“I’m afraid I must be off,” said the professor, rising. “My companion in camp won’t know what has become of me.”
“Oh, he’s all right!” said Henry. “He’s down at the Corners, and is going to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed a while ago; he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went with him. I guess Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, will you go to the meeting? I’m going. Young Bartlett’s going, and so is Kitty. Won’t you come, too, Mr. Renmark? It’s great fun.”