"
"He asked me yesterday," she faltered. Her voice was full of startled
concern. "I'd rather go with you, you know I had. I have never gone
with him anywhere. We are almost strangers. I--I would hardly know
how to talk to him."
She knew it was not with his natural voice that Westerfelt answered.
"Well," he said, coldly, "you can't go with two fellows, and he got to
you first. I reckon Bates knows the roads; you'd better take the
river-bottom route. Washburn says the other is not as good as it might
be. Good-bye."
He had reached the veranda when she called him back. As he re-entered
the room she rose and stepped towards him.
"Are you mad with me, Mr. Westerfelt?"
He was ashamed of himself, but he could not conquer his horrible humor.
"Not in the least; I don't blame you." His tone was still cold and his
glance averted. She put her handkerchief to her face in vexation, but
removed it quickly as she caught his glance.
"I'll not go; I'll stay at home," she affirmed.
"No, go; you'd never hear the end of it if you were to slight Bates."
"Shall I see you out there?"
"I reckon not," he laughed, harshly.
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