“Perhaps I would have,” she said, “if I had known. Wherever did you come from?”
“Sit here,” he said, and drew her down beside him on the wide ledge that ran under the window. “I come from Chelsea Neck on my way back to the camp in Medford—”
“You—you’re going back to camp?” she interrupted him.
He looked at her keenly. Something was the matter with her. She was all upset like, but trying not to let him see. He’d thought to steal a few kisses, but he felt pretty sure she wasn’t in the mood for kissing. Too bad. Well, another night, maybe. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Yes, I think likely they can use me there. I been away driving cattle off the islands the last week or two. Met up with Johnny Pettengall and he told me you was here. Tonight we borrowed a boat and rowed over the Mystic. But I didn’t see you anywheres as I come across Breed’s Hill and through the town. Where you been tonight, Kitty?”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know that—but maybe I ought—”
“Here ’tis!” cried Johnny triumphantly, rushing into the room with a small iron file in his hand. He paid no attention to Kitty. “Come on, Tom! Let’s go file Sally Rose!”
Tom waved him away with a flippant gesture. “You go file Sally Rose,” he said. “She’s your girl. I got business with Kitty.” He turned his back on the other lad.
Kitty put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I forgot!” she gasped. “Sally Rose is still in the stays!”
“Sure enough she is,” agreed Tom. “Johnny’s got a file, and he can shave the lock away. I asked you where you’d been tonight, Kit. Walking out with some other lad, maybe. No moon, but it’s sweet-aired and warm. A good courting night.”