I couldn't speak; we were passing a big maple tree, and I stopped and hid my face against it, so that Race couldn't see it. He let me cry a few minutes, and then took hold of my hand as gentle as a little child, and whispered, 'Don't cry, Dimpey! I can't bear it. I'm afraid I shall do something rash, if you don't stop soon!'
I didn't know what he meant by 'something rash,' but his voice sounded so earnest, it frightened me. I took my hand out of his, and wiped my eyes; and then I said, 'It's very shallow to cry when one's head aches; but I couldn't help it.'
'Does your head ache, Dimpey?' said Race; 'oh, how sorry I am I haven't my wagon here. I'm afraid you can't walk home.'
Now, my head did ache; but it was because I had been crying; but you see, if one leaves the truth ever so little, how deceitful one has to be to keep it up. I felt real mean when Race showed so much concern about me, and told him I could walk very well.
'Won't you take my arm?' said he; 'that will help you.'
I couldn't refuse, though I was dreadfully afraid we might meet somebody. We walked on in silence for a while, and I could feel Race's heart beat against my hand that lay on his arm, for he held me close to his side, as if I was in danger of falling. Presently he said:
'I only asked who you were going with, Dimpey, because I wanted you to have a good time; if I can't have your company, I don't care to go; but I hoped you would enjoy yourself.'
Race spoke so honest it made me feel ashamed of my ugly spirit, and I answered:
'Edward Hassel asked me to go with him; but father's got a notion he drives too fast, and perhaps he won't let me ride with him.'
I felt Race give a kind of shiver; and when he spoke again, his voice trembled like everything.