Why
should he, when he was innocent? But, if Mr. Cooke insisted, he would
enjoy seeing that part of the lake and the Canadian side.
Afterwards I perceived Miss Thorn down by the brookside, washing dishes.
Her sleeves were drawn back to the elbow, and a dainty white apron
covered her blue skirt, while the wind from the lake had disentangled
errant wisps of her hair. I stood on the brink above, secure, as I
thought, from observation, when she chanced to look up and spied me.
"Mr. Crocker," she called, "would you like to make yourself useful?"
I was decidedly embarrassed. Her manner was as frank and unconstrained
as though I had not been shunning her for weeks past.
"If such a thing is possible," I replied.
"Do you know a dish-cloth when you see one?"
I was doubtful. But I procured the cloth from Miss Trevor and returned.
There was an air about Miss Thorn that was new to me.
"What an uncompromising man you are, Mr. Crocker," she said to me. "Once
a person is unfortunate enough to come under the ban of your disapproval
you have nothing whatever to do with them. Now it seems that I have
given you offence in some way. Is it not so?"
"You magnify my importance," I said.
"No temporizing, Mr. Crocker," she went on, as though she meant to be
obeyed; "sit down there, and let's have it out. I like you too well to
quarrel with you."
There was no resisting such a command, and I threw myself on the pebbles
at her feet.
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