With a very haughty nod to Floyd and Cynthia together, Evelyn Duncan walked stiffly on ahead of her father.
Outside, Cynthia looked straight into the eyes of her escort.
“Why did you refuse Captain Duncan's invitation?” she asked.
“Why did I?” He laughed, mysteriously. “Because during service I made up my mind that I'd get to you before the parson did; and then I had other reasons.”
“What were they?”
“Gossip,” he said, with a low, significant laugh.
“Gossip? I don't understand,” Cynthia said, perplexed.
“Well, I heard,” Floyd replied, “that since I've been finally invited to Duncan's house I'll run there night and day, and that it will end in my marrying that little bunch of lace and ribbons. I heard other speculations, too, on my future conduct, and as I saw our village talker, Mrs. Snodgrass, was listening just now, I was tickled at the chance to decline the invitation and walk home with you. It will be all over the country by night.”
They were traversing a cool, shaded road now, and as most of the congregation had taken other directions, they were comparatively alone.
“Evelyn Duncan is in love with you,” Cynthia said, abruptly, her glance on the ground.