"I was--but I ain't now--if you'll let me walk a piece with you." He was scarlet with confusion--a tribute that Chad rarely paid his kind. His way of talking was very funny, to be sure, but had she not heard her father say that "the poor little chap had had no chance in life;" and Harry, that some day he would be the best in his class?
"Aren't you--Chad?"
"Yes--ain't you Margaret--Miss Margaret?"
"Yes, I'm Margaret." She was pleased with the hesitant title and the boy's halting reverence.
"An' I called you a little gal." Margaret's laugh tinkled in merry remembrance. "An' you wouldn't take my fish.""I can't bear to touch them."
"I know," said Chad, remembering Melissa.
They passed a boy who knew Chad, but not Margaret. The lad took off his hat, but Chad did not lift his; then a boy and a girl and, when only the two girls spoke, the other boy lifted his hat, though he did not speak to Margaret.
Still Chad's hat was untouched and when Margaret looked up, Chad's face was red with confusion again. But it never took the boy long to learn and, thereafter, during the walk his hat came off unfailingly. Everyone looked at the two with some surprise and Chad noticed that the little girl's chin was being lifted higher and higher. His intuition told him what the matter was, and when they reached the stile across the campus and Chad saw a crowd of Margaret's friends coming down the street, he halted as if to turn back, but the little girl told him imperiously to come on. It was a strange escort for haughty Margaret--the country-looking boy, in coarse homespun--but Margaret spoke cheerily to her friends and went on, looking up at Chad and talking to him as though he were the dearest friend she had on earth.
At the edge of town she suggested that they walk across a pasture and go back by another street, and not until they were passing through the woodland did Chad come to himself.
"You know I didn't rickollect when you called me 'little boy.'""Indeed!"
"Not at fust, I mean," stammered Chad.
Margaret grew mock-haughty and Chad grew grave. He spoke very slowly and steadily. "I reckon I rickollect ever'thing that happened out thar a sight better'n you. I ain't forgot nothin'--anything."The boy's sober and half-sullen tone made Margaret catch her breath with a sudden vague alarm.
Unconsciously she quickened her pace, but, already, she was mistress of an art to which she was born and she said, lightly:
"Now, that's MUCH better." A piece of pasteboard dropped from Chad's jacket just then, and, taking the little girl's cue to swerve from the point at issue, he picked it up and held it out for Margaret to read. It was the first copy of the placard which he had tied around Jack's neck when he sent him home, and it set Margaret to laughing and asking questions. Before he knew it Chad was telling her about Jack and the mountains; how he had run away; about the Turners and about Melissa and coming down the river on a raft--all he had done and all he meant to do. And from looking at Chad now and then, Margaret finally kept her eyes fixed on his--and thus they stood when they reached the gate, while crows flew cawing over them and the air grew chill.
"And did Jack go home?"
Chad laughed.
"No, he didn't. He come back, and I had to hide fer two days. Then, because he couldn't find me he did go, thinking I had gone back to the mountains, too. He went to look fer me.""Well, if he comes back again I'll ask my papa to get them to let you keep Jack at college," said Margaret.
Chad shook his head.
"Then I'll keep him for you myself." The boy looked his gratitude, but shook his head again.
"He won't stay."
Margaret asked for the placard again as they moved down the street.
"You've got it spelled wrong," she said, pointing to "steel." Chad blushed.
"I can't spell when I write," he said. "I can't even talk--right.""But you'll learn," she said.
"Will you help me?"
"Yes."
"Tell me when I say things wrong?"
"Yes."
"Where'm I goin' to see you?"
Margaret shook her head thoughtfully: then the reason for her speaking first to Chad came out.
"Papa and I saw you on Sunday, and papa said you must be very strong as well as brave, and that you knew something about horses. Harry told us who you were when papa described you, and then I remembered. Papa told Harry to bring you to see us. And you must come," she said, decisively.
They had reached the turnstile at the campus again.
"Have you had any more tournaments?" asked Margaret.
"No," said Chad, apprehensively.
"Do you remember the last thing I said to you?""I rickollect that better'n anything," said Chad.
"Well, I didn't hate you. I'm sorry I said that," she said gently. Chad looked very serious.
"That's all right," he said. "I seed--I saw you on Sunday, too.""Did you know me?"
"I reckon I did. And that wasn't the fust time." Margaret's eyes were opening with surprise.
"I been goin' to church ever' Sunday fer nothin' else but just to see you."Again his tone gave her vague alarm, but she asked:
"Why didn't you speak to me?"
They were nearing the turnstile across the campus now, and Chad did not answer.
"Why didn't you speak to me?"
Chad stopped suddenly, and Margaret looked quickly at him, and saw that his face was scarlet. The little girl started and her own face flamed. There was one thing she had forgotten, and even now she could not recall what it was--only that it was something terrible she must not know--old Mammy's words when Dan was carried in senseless after the tournament. Frightened and helpless, she shrank toward the turnstile, but Chad did not wait. With his cap in his hand, he turned abruptly, without a sound, and strode away.
