“Don’t you know who I am?” she said, in surprise.
“I know you sing very beautifully in church,” he said, smiling.
“My name,” she said, quietly, “is the name of your father’s old neighbor. I am Jessie Jocelyn.”
His face was troubled, even in his surprise. The line between his eyes deepened. “I did not know you were Mr. Jocelyn’s daughter,” he said, at last.
Neither spoke for a moment. Presently Gordon raised his head and found her brown eyes on him.
“I wish,” he said, wistfully, “that you would let me walk with you a little way. I want to ask your advice. Will you?”
“I am going home,” she said, coldly.
She turned away, moving two or three paces, then the next step was less hasty, and the next was slower still. As he joined her she looked up a trifle startled, then bent her head.
“Miss Jocelyn,” he said, abruptly, “have you ever heard your father say that my father treated him harshly?”
She stopped short beside him. “Have you?” he repeated, firmly.