“We will draw this portiere across the doorway, and no gentleman would think of entering,” said Lib.
“No, they wouldn’t, sure enough,” said Hugh. “How are you going to prevent our looking in the windows?”
“Only rude boys would look in windows,” said Fred, “and I don’t know of any hereabouts.”
They laughed at this, and Lib laughed too, and made the sly remark, that “Hunting on the duck-pond transformed some people mighty soon.”
Fred said he’d try to be on his good behavior if we’d let him make a formal call on us the next afternoon. We consented to this; then they all said they’d call.
The next day we busied ourselves in preparing a spread of good things for our reception, and Betty took it over, and on returning, said every thing was just as we had left it. We dressed ourselves up in our best, to receive the gentlemen, a little time after dinner. The woods were never so lovely, we thought, and to add to our personal charms, we made wreaths and garlands of ferns and wild-flowers to adorn our persons and hats.
I had sauntered along considerably in advance, and as I approached the bower I was not a little surprised to see from a distance that the door-curtain was drawn half open. I stopped to listen, but there was no sound, only a wild bird piping its three little notes, down by the mill. I cautiously went up, and peeped into the little window, and there stood a man on the rug! He seemed to be looking about. I think I never was so frightened. I ran back, and whispered to the rest the dreadful state of things. They looked horror-stricken. Lib changed color, but just stood still. Then she said,—“There’s plenty of help over at the mill.”
“Oh, let us go no nearer, but get home as fast as we can,” I said.
Lib raised her hand in warning for us to keep still, and we crept along, softly, behind the bower; and when we had gotten so far, we all turned around and ran for dear life into the woods again.
“This is nonsense,” said Lib. “You were mistaken, Mollie, I’m sure.”