"You ought to have stayed out, Mr. Bannon," he said. "It's the greatest thing you ever saw—doesn't sag an inch. And say—I wish you could hear the boys talk—they'd lie down and let you walk on 'em, if you wanted to."
Max's eyes were bright, and his face red with exercise and excitement. He came to the gate and stood wiping his feet and looking from one to the other for several moments before he felt the awkwardness that had come over him. His long rubber coat was thrown back, and little streams of water ran down his back and formed a pool on the floor behind him.
"You'd better come out," he said. "It's the prettiest thing I ever saw—a clean straight span from the main house to the tower."
Bannon stood watching him quizzically; then he turned to Hilda. She, too, had been looking at Max, but she turned at the same moment, and their eyes met.
"Do you want to go?" he said.
She nodded eagerly. "I'd like to ever so much."
Then Bannon thought of the rain, but she saw his thought as he glanced toward the window, and spoke quickly.
"I don't mind—really. Max will let me take his coat."
"Sure," said Max, and he grinned. She slipped into it, and it enveloped her, hanging in folds and falling on the floor.
"I'll have to hold it up," she said. "Do we have much climbing?"