He had noticed a path opening into the woods at a point almost opposite his own house, and naturally assumed that it was the one she was now pursuing in order to avoid an encounter with him. His long legs carried him speedily to the outlet and there he posted himself. He could hear her coming through the brush, although her figure was still obscured by the tangle of wildwood; the snapping of dead twigs under her feet; the scuffling of last year's leaves on the path, now wet and plastered with mud and the slime of winter; the swish of branches as she thrust them aside. She emerged, breathless, into a little open spot, not twenty feet away, and stopped to listen, looking back through the trees and underbrush to see if she was being followed. Her skirts were drawn up almost to the knees and pinched closely about her grey-stockinged legs. He gallantly turned away and pretended to be studying the house across the road. Presently he felt his ears burning; he turned to meet the onslaught of her scornful, convicting eyes. She had not moved. Her hands, having released the petticoat, were clenched at her sides. Her cheeks were crimson, and her dark eyes, peering out from the shade of the close-fitting hood of her black bonnet, smouldered with wrath,--and, if he could have read them better, a very decided trace of maidenly dismay. "Ah, there you are," he cried, lifting his hat. "I was wondering whether you would come out at this--" "Can't you see I am trying to avoid you?" she demanded with extreme frigidity. "I rather fancied you were," said he easily. "So I hurried back here to head you off. I trust you will not turn around and run the other way, now that I have almost trapped you. Because if you do, I shall catch up with you in ten jumps." "I wish you would go away," she cried. "I don't want to see you,--or talk to you." "Then why did you leave word for me to come to your house to see you?" he challenged. "I suspect you know by this time," she replied, significantly. He hesitated, regarding her with some uneasiness. "What do you mean?" he fenced. "Well, you surely know that it was my mother who wanted to see you, and not I," she said, almost insolently. "Are you going to keep me standing here in the mud and slush all day?" "No, indeed," he said. "Please come out." "Not until you go away." "Why don't you want to talk to me? What have I done?" "You know very well what you have done," she cried, hotly. "In the first place, I don't like you. You have made it very unpleasant for my mother,--who certainly has never done you any harm. In the second place, I resent your interference in my affairs. Wait! Do not interrupt me, please. Maybe you have not exactly interfered as yet, but you are determined to do so,--for the honour of the family, I suppose." She spoke scathingly. "I defy you,--and mother, too. I am not a child to be--" "I must interrupt you," he exclaimed. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about."