She walked up into the village with Langbourne, and he did not know whether he was to accompany her home or not. But she gave him no sign of dismissal till she put her hand upon her gate to pull it open without asking him to come in. Then he said, "I will send Miss Simpson's letters to her at once."
"Oh, any time will do, Mr. Langbourne," she returned sweetly. Then, as if it had just occurred to her, she added, "We're going after May-flowers this afternoon. Wouldn't you like to come too?"
"I don't know," he began, "whether I shall have the time—"
"Why, you're not going away to-day!"
"I expected—I—But if you don't think I shall be intruding—"
"Why, I should be delighted to have you. Mr. Dickery's going, and Jenny Dickery, and Barbara. I don't believe it will rain."
"Then, if I may," said Langbourne.
"Why, certainly, Mr. Langbourne!" she cried, and he started away. But he had gone only a few rods when he wheeled about and hurried back. The girl was going up the walk to the house, looking over her shoulder after him; at his hurried return she stopped and came down to the gate again.
"Miss Bingham, I think—I think I had better not go."
"Why, just as you feel about it, Mr. Langbourne," she assented.