The sun struck into her face as she looked up at
him, and made her frown with a knot between her brows that pulled her
eyes still closer together, and she asked, with no direct reference to
his shirt-sleeves,--"A'n't you forcing the season?"
"Don't want to let the summer get the start of you," the young man
generalized, and Miss Bingham said,--
"Mr. Langbourne, Mr. Dickery." The young man silently shook hands with
Langbourne, whom he took into the joke of Miss Bingham with another
smile; and she went on: "Say, John, I wish you'd tell Jenny I don't see
why we shouldn't go this afternoon, after all."
"All right," said the young man.
"I suppose you're coming too?" she suggested.
"Hadn't heard of it," he returned.
"Well, you have now. You've got to be ready at two o'clock."
"That so?" the young fellow inquired. Then he walked away among the
logs, as casually as he had arrived, and Miss Bingham rose and shook
some bits of bark from her skirt.
"Mr. Dickery is owner of the mills," she explained, and she explored
Langbourne's face for an intelligence which she did not seem to find
there. He thought, indifferently enough, that this young man had heard
the two girls speak of him, and had satisfied a natural curiosity in
coming to look him over; it did not occur to him that he had any
especial relation to Miss Bingham.
She walked up into the village with Langbourne, and he did not know
whether he was to accompany her home or not.
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