“You must be jesting,” he said, endeavoring to restrain himself. “I hope you’re not baiting me.” “Not at all. Ever since the game yesterday I have felt much curiosity concerning Tom Locke. To some extent, it has been satisfied. I admit I was surprised to find him plainly very much of a gentleman.” He bit his lip, his gloved hands gripping and crushing the soft felt hat, and for the moment he was afraid to speak again. Hatred for Tom Locke throbbed in every pulse beat. She broke the momentary silence: “What are you doing here――now?” “I am waiting to walk home with you.” “But it is too early. I told you after Sabbath school.” “I’ll wait,” he said. “Don’t let me put you to that trouble.” “I’ll wait,” he repeated grimly. He was waiting at the door when she came forth after Sabbath school was over, and he fell in at her side. She made an observation about the beautiful day, but his face wore a shadow, and it was of something quite different that he presently spoke. “I hope, Janet,” he said, “that you are not becoming interested in that man Locke?” “Oh, but I _am_ interested in him,” she returned, laughing. “How can I help being? He is a wonderful pitcher, and he has shown that he can take care of himself when crowded into a corner. Every one who has seen him must be interested in him.” “You know what I mean, Janet. He is a professional ball player, a stranger, a man whom no one around here knows anything about.” “Oh, Mr. Cope must know a great deal about him, or he’d never signed him for the team. I’d really like to ask Mr. Cope some questions.” “Don’t! If you do that, if you’re not careful, you’ll have people gossiping. You know how easy it is to start gossip in a small country town.” She tossed her head a bit. “Yes, I know; but if they want to gossip over nothing at all, I’ll not attempt to deprive them of the pleasure.” “These baseball players,” he went on, “always think they can mash any country girl they choose. I understand that they joke and boast of their conquests, and laugh about the silly girls who get stuck on them. You should have foresight enough――” “I beg your pardon, Mr. King!” she interrupted frigidly. “You seem to presume that I’m anxious to pick up a flirtation with a baseball player. I assure you that you are mistaken; but, even if you were not, you could not choose a better method of making yourself offensive.” He saw he had made a false step; in vain he tried to remedy the error. She would not quarrel, nor would she discuss the matter further, maintaining silence, save when it became absolutely necessary, out of politeness, to make some answer to what he was saying. Cursing himself for a blunderer, he apologized as well as he could, speaking of their long friendship, and his natural interest in her, which might have led any one into such an indiscretion. At the door of the parsonage they parted, he still humble and penitent, she still cool and formal.