“Now you see,” cried Edna, gleefully, “how easy it is, as you yourself said, for men to misunderstand each other. A few words of explanation will show you how you have thought unjustly of Mr. Barnard Hope. He did intend to use his influence on behalf of the men, and came all the way from Chelsea here to see father on the subject, just as you have done to-day, and father was not at home, just as he is not to-day. Mr. Hope talked it over with mother and me, and he quite agreed with us that it would not be fair to father if there was any interference. It was for my father’s sake that he refused to take part in the dispute.”
To this conclusive defence of Barney, the young man had no answer; but he was saved the necessity of a reply, for both talker and listener were startled by a shrill voice near the house, calling the girl’s name.
Edna started to her feet in alarm, and Marsten also arose.
“That is my step-mother calling me. She has returned. I had no idea it was so late. What shall we do? She mustn’t see you here, and yet you can’t get out without passing the house.”
“I can go over the wall. I wonder who lives in the next house?”
“It is vacant, but the wall is high, and there is broken glass on the top.”
“I’ll have a try for it, any way.”
They passed through the shrubbery to the dividing wall.
“Oh, I am sure you can’t do it, and you will cut your hands.”
Marsten pulled off his coat; threw it, widespread, over the barbarous broken glass; stepped back as far as the shrubbery would allow him, and took a running jump, catching the top of the wall with his hands where the coat covered the glass. Next instant he was up, putting on his coat, while his boots crunched the broken bottles.