“For heaven’s sake, don’t kick up a fuss now. No, don’t tell Elise,” he said, impatiently. “I’ll get home all right. And don’t scare mother to death when we get there. I guess it’s the sun or something. And—don’t walk so fast.”
Jane, more frightened by the look of his face, than by his words, obediently slackened her pace. The others were eight or ten yards ahead of them.
“Hurry up, Janey—we’ll be late for supper,” called Elise, glancing back at them. Jane looked pleadingly at Carl.
“I have to tell Elise. Please, Carl, dear, don’t be foolish.”
“No, you must not. I tell you I won’t have them all fussing over me, and talking, and asking questions!” he exclaimed, with a sudden flash of temper. “Let ’em go ahead if they want to.”
They dropped farther and farther behind, until the others were already crossing the bridge as they were just gaining the road. But Paul, strolling along with his hands in his pockets whistling an accompaniment to his own thoughts was midway between the two divisions of the party.
Suddenly Carl declared that he had to rest until his head stopped throbbing a bit. Just then Paul happened to glance back.
“Hey! Are you going to spend the summer back there?” he shouted, cheerfully, but the next moment he seemed to guess that something was wrong, for after a little hesitation, he turned and started to walk toward them.
“We’re coming,” said Jane, “only Carl has a little headache, and he wanted to rest a minute.”
Paul looked critically at his cousin’s white face. He did not waste any time in asking the well-meant questions that Carl found so objectionable, but said simply,