"Doing?" he asked in surprise. "Why, nothing at all. I was only waiting for you." "And why," she said, with more sharpness than before, "if you were waiting for me, didn't you come to the house and wait there?" "I don't like to go to boarding-houses and wait," he replied, smiling. "I have a prejudice against boarding-houses, although I have no doubt that Mrs. Stump's is an excellent house. And my going there might excite some comment." "Is it your idea," Sally retorted quickly, "that your waiting on the next corner will not excite comment? There has been too much comment already." "Well, Sally, what if there has been a certain amount of it? We don't care, do we?" "I am not sure that we don't," she answered slowly, looking him in the face thoughtfully. "I am not sure. In fact, I think we do." He flushed a little under her direct gaze. That subject was not to be pursued. "Where are you going?" he asked. "I am going for a walk," she replied; "for a long walk. And I--" "Then you'd better ride," he said quickly, interrupting her. "I can get Sawny in five minutes. Where will you be?" "No," Sally spoke earnestly. "Don't. I'd rather not. I prefer to walk. And, Everett, I'd rather you wouldn't go with me. I want to take this walk alone." Everett was surprised. It was rather a shock to find that he wasn't wanted. "Oh," he said coldly. "Very well. I hope you will have a most pleasant walk to--wherever you are going." Sally's heart was too tender. Everett seemed hurt, and she didn't like to feel that she had hurt him. "I am going to Fisherman's Cove," she said. "Fisherman's Cove! But you know that will take you through the heart of milltown." "Yes, but the mills aren't out. I'll come back early." "It's not a way for a girl to choose." Sally smiled. "I'll be all right, I think." Everett shrugged his shoulders. "You'd much better let me drive you. We can go to the Cove as well as elsewhere." Sally shook her head gently. "As you please," he said; and he shrugged again and turned away. Sally looked after him for a moment. "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Now I've offended him--mortally, I suppose. But it doesn't matter. I was forgetting. Nothing really matters." It didn't matter. It might be better if she had offended him mortally if he would stay offended. So Sally put aside all thoughts of Everett and resumed her walk. She had no great difficulty in putting aside thoughts of him. I do not know what her thoughts were, as she walked on towards the Cove, but it is safe to say that they were not of Everett. She must have been thinking pretty deeply of something, for she took her way unconsciously and without seeing where she was going; and she passed the few people that she met without seeing them or being conscious that they were there. Walking so, like one asleep, she came to the end of that street, where it runs into River Street.