“I’ve loved you ever since the first time I saw you!” said Wilson with sudden vehemence.
Utterly unprepared for this direct attack, Miss Gething had no weapon to meet it. The tables were turned, and reddening with confusion, she looked away and made no reply.
“I’ve spent days walking up and down the road the school is in because you were there,” continued Wilson. “I’ve wondered sometimes that the school children didn’t notice it.”
Miss Gething turned to him a cheek which was of the richest carmine, “If it’s any pleasure to you to know it, they did,” she said viciously. “I taught one small infant the blessing of silence by keeping her in three afternoons.”
“I can’t help it,” said Wilson. “You’ll have to keep the whole school in before I get over my fondness for that road. What did she say?”
“Suppose we get back,” said Annis coldly, and turning, walked silently beside him. Neither spoke until they reached the lane again, and then Wilson stopped and met her gaze full and fair. Miss Gething, after a brave trial, abandoned the contest and lowered her eyes.
“Will you serve us both alike?” said Wilson in a low voice.
“No,” said Annis. She looked up at him shyly and smiled. A light broke in upon him, and seizing her hand he drew her towards him.
“No,” said Annis, drawing back sharply; “it wouldn’t be right.”
Afraid he had gone too far, Wilson’s cowardice got the better hand again. “What wouldn’t?” he asked, with an awkward attempt at innocence. A tiny but ominous sparkle in Miss Gething’s eye showed her opinion of this unfairness.