“You flattered yourself that I'd care! Huh, I see! I suppose I'd hate to see any one shot down in cold blood at a moment's notice like that.”
He caught her hand and laughingly attempted to draw her to him again, but she remained leaning against the door-frame.
“You are not going to be mad at me,” he said, pleadingly, “now, are you?”
“No, but I'm going into the house I told you I'd not meet you here after all the others have gone to bed, when you whistled as you would to your dog, and I want you to know I would not have come if I had not been over-excited. Good-night.”
“Wait a moment. I really did want to see you particularly, Cynthia—to make an engagement. The young folks are all going over to Pine Grove next Sunday afternoon to attend meeting, and I want to take you in my new buggy behind my Kentucky horse.”
“You couldn't wait till to-morrow to ask me,” she said, interrogatively.
“No, I couldn't wait till to-morrow, for that long, slim 'sky-pilot' will run over before breakfast to ask you to go with him. I know that. But can I count on you?”
She hesitated for a moment, then she said, simply: “Yes, I'll go with you; but I shall leave you now. Good-night.”
“Good-night, then. Well, I'll see you Sunday—I guess that will have to do.”