We had protested against the gentlemen accompanying us home, as the gate in the lane where they would leave us for the McPherson place was very near the house. But they persisted, and when we reached the yard Tom sat down upon the bench under the maple as if he intended to spend the night. Reginald was in a hurry and said so, and gave his hand to Rena to say good-night, wondering why he felt such a sudden glow in his whole body. No dampness now, no thought that he had been sitting in a pool of water, no thought of anything except that he was very warm and the warmth was communicated to him by the girl’s hand resting in his. With the pressure of Irene’s hand which he took next the dampness returned and he could have sworn that he had sat in a bucket of water all the evening. Still he was very gracious as he said good-night, hoping to see her again and asking if she was fond of driving. She was a coward, afraid even of old farm-horses, but she answered promptly: “Oh, so much! There is nothing I like better, especially in the country,” while visions of a tête-à-tête with him and no Tom to look on flitted through her mind. But Rex had no idea of a drive alone with her, and her illusion was at once dispelled by his saying: “I hope your cousin likes it, too. I know Tom does, and we will go to-morrow, perhaps, if it is fine. Or, no, not so soon as that, perhaps. You will wish to get over the fatigue of your journey.” He was beginning to draw back, thinking he might be a little too fast in his attentions, but Irene disclaimed all thoughts of fatigue. “I am never tired, any more than I take cold,” she said. “Both are fallacies.” Reginald looked startled, wondering a second time if she were given to new fads and isms and what he should do if she were—he, who was so matter-of-fact that it took him a long time to believe anything out of the ordinary. He was very anxious to get away, and in his anxiety came near forgetting to bid me good-night. He remembered it, however, at last, and lifting his hat to us all walked rapidly away. “What’s your awful hurry?” Tom said, nothing loath to linger in the soft night air, with Rena’s eyes shining on him. Reginald did not answer, nor turn his head, and saying good-by to us Tom started down the lane with long strides which soon brought him up to his friend. CHAPTER VIII CONFIDENCES AND COMMUNINGS Irene had not passed a very pleasant evening and was in a bad humor, and as we entered the house she complained loudly of the condition of her organdie, which she declared spoiled with the dew, beside having a big spot of mud upon it. “I had no business to sit there so long in that damp, poky place. I am chilled through, and Mr. Travers was just as uncomfortable as I was and wanted to get away.” Neither of us answered her, and she said no more until she was in her room, divesting herself of her limp organdie and wet boots.