"
"And the boy?"
"Lively as a sand flea."
"How did he happen to get into the water, in the first place?" Mr.
Barrett inquired.
"Chiefly because his Aunt Phebe advised him to be careful, or he would
get his feet wet," Hope answered. "There is no use in my trying to
excuse my naughty boy, Mr. Barrett. Mac was so eager to assure my sister
that she didn't own him that, in his defiance, he backed straight into
the water."
"Oh, Hope, what is the use of telling, now it is all over?" Phebe's
remonstrant tones came from inside the house.
Gifford Barrett rose and went towards the door.
"Are you there, Miss McAlister? I hoped I should see you."
"I'll be out in a minute."
The minute was a long one. Then Phebe stepped through the open doorway
into the stronger light outside. Her face flushed a little, as she
reluctantly touched the young man's outstretched hand; but that was all
there was to show that she recalled the last words they had exchanged,
the day before.
"I wanted to see you," he went on, as he seated himself once more. "I am
going away, to-morrow night, and before I went, I had something I wished
to tell--to explain, that is, to you all."
A sudden tension seemed to make itself felt throughout the group. No one
of them had the remotest idea of what he was about to say, yet even Dr.
McAlister drew his chair a few inches nearer, while Cicely, in her
corner, fairly bounced in her excitement.
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