“Did Mother tell you?” I demanded. “If she did--” “Well, what if she did? However, she did not. But you have told me now. Harvard, was it? or Yale?” I tossed the knife and fork into the basket and turned away. “Princeton, perhaps,” suggested Miss Colton. I walked over and began to unjoint my rod. I was a fool to be trapped like this. No one in Denboro except Mother and George Taylor knew of my brief college career, and now I had, practically, told this girl of it. She might--if she were sufficiently interested to remember, which was fortunately not probable--tell her father and he might ask other questions concerning my history. Where would those questions lead? I was angrily tugging at the rod when I heard her step behind me. I did not turn. “I beg your pardon,” she said. I pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Paine,” she said again. “It's all right,” I muttered. “No apologies are necessary.” I said it like a sullen schoolboy. There was another moment of silence. Then I heard her move away. I looked over my shoulder. She was walking toward the meadow where Don, the horse, was picketed. There was offended dignity in every line of her figure. For a moment I fought with my pride and injured self-respect. Then I hurried after her. “Miss Colton,” I said. “Well?” she neither turned nor stopped. “Miss Colton, I should not have answered like that. I was rude.” She stopped. “You were,” she said. “I know it. I am sorry. I apologize.” “No apologies are necessary.” Here was tit for tat. I did not know what more to say, so I said nothing. “Do I understand that you ask my pardon?” she inquired, still without turning. “I do. If you will permit me, I will explain. I--” She whirled about and faced me. To my astonishment she was smiling once more. “Of course you won't explain,” she declared. “I had no right to ask you about your college. But I couldn't help guessing. I told you that I liked puzzles. We'll say no more about it. I have enjoyed this picnic and I won't have it spoiled. Now why are you taking your rod apart?” “Because I know you want to go home and I am going with you to show you the way.” “But I don't have to go yet, do I? It is not late. And I thought perhaps you would let me see you catch another bass. Won't you? Please.” Once more she had me at a disadvantage. I had no desire for more fishing, and I was fearful of further questions, but what could I do? And it was not late--but a little past two o'clock. So I rigged the rod again and led the way down the shore to the spot where the sedge extended out into the pond, with the lily pads beyond it. She walked beside me. Then she seated herself on a fallen tree and I baited the hook with a lively minnow and cast. For some time I got not even a nibble. As I waited she and I talked. But now it was I who questioned. “Do you like Denboro?” I asked. “I am beginning to like it very much. At first I thought it very dull, but now I am getting acquainted.”