you were a Bennett. The Bennetts are
a very good family, so she says. And she informed me that she always
expected me to throw myself away, so she was not altogether unprepared."

I sighed. "Throwing yourself away is exactly what you have done, I'm
afraid," I answered.

She put her hand to my lips. "Hush!" she whispered. "At all events, I
made a lucky throw. I'm very glad you caught me, dear."

There was a rustle of leaves just behind us and a startled exclamation.
I turned and saw Lute Rogers standing there in the path, an expression
on his face which I shall not attempt to describe, for no description
could do justice to it. We looked at Lute and he looked at us.

He was the first to recover.

"My time!" exclaimed Lute. "My TIME!"

He turned and fled.

"Come here!" I shouted after him. "Come back here this minute! Lute,
come back!"

Lute came, looking shamefaced and awkward.

"Where were you going?" I demanded.

"I--I was cal'latin' to go and tell Dorindy," he faltered.

"You'll tell nobody. Nobody, do you hear! I'll tell Dorinda myself,
when it is necessary. What were you doing here? spying on me in that
fashion."

"I--I wan't spyin', Ros. Honest truth, I wan't. I--I didn't know you and
she was--was--"

"Never mind that. What were you doing here?"

"I was chasin' after you, Ros. I just heard the most astonishing thing.
Jed Dean was to the house to make Dorindy and me promise to say nothin'
about that Shore Lane 'cause you never sold it, and he said Mr. Colton
had offered you a turrible fine job along of him and that you was goin'
to take it. I wanted to find you and ask it 'twas true. 'Taint true, is
it, Ros?" wistfully. "By time! I wish 'twas."

Before I could answer Mabel spoke.

"Yes, it is true, Mr. Rogers," she said. "It is quite true and you may
tell anyone you like. It is true, isn't it, Roscoe?"

What answer could I make? What answer would you have made under the
circumstances?

"Yes," I answered, with a sigh of resignation. "I guess it is true,
Lute."

End of Project Gutenberg's The Rise of Roscoe Paine, by Joseph C. Lincoln

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