“Why, you have got quite excited,” he said gently; “look, I am not keeping you—I have let go of the handle—but won’t you wait while I write a note to the forewoman? I want to send her a message, I really do! Won’t you wait for it?”
“Of course, if you ask me as one of the girls, I must.”
“You’re terribly perverse!” he exclaimed, half annoyed.
“If you ask me as one of the girls....”
“Very well; Nan, will you please wait a minute while I write a note for you to take to Miss Dawson?” He was not sure to what extent she was serious or joking. Then she flushed at his use of her name, but he saw that she was not joking at all. “What a strange, perplexing thing!” he commented inwardly, as he searched for a pencil among the litter on his table.
“If you’re looking for your pencil, I put it in the tray with your measure and the little thermometer,” she volunteered sulkily.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “You said you hadn’t tidied!” but a glance at her face, which was still quivering with her aroused sensitiveness, warned him not to tease her. He sat down and wrote his note while she waited over by the door, then he brought it across to her.
“Have we quarrelled?” he said wistfully.
“Is there no message with the note?”
“How severe you are!” He held the note just out of her reach, risking her anger if he might keep her a moment longer. “Have you got the packet of cedar-dust I gave you?”