She laughed and held out her moist hands to the fire. "Well, there was more
than you see," she responded pleasantly, and added, while she smiled at him
with narrowed eyes, "dear me, you've grown so much older."
"And you've grown so much prettier," he retorted boldly.
A flush crossed her face, and her look grew a little wistful. "The rain has
bewitched you," she said.
"You may call me a fool if you like," he pursued, as if she had not spoken,
"but I did not know until to-day that you had the most beautiful hair in
the world. Why, it is always sunshine about you." He put out his hand to
touch a loose curl that hung upon her shoulder, then drew it quickly back.
"I don't suppose I might," he asked humbly.
Betty gathered up her hair with shaking hands, which gleamed white in the
firelight, and carelessly twisted it about her head.
"It is not nearly so pretty as Virginia's," she said in a low voice.
"Virginia's? Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed, and walked rapidly up and down
the room.
Beyond the open door the rain fell heavily; he heard it beating softly on
the roof and dripping down upon the smooth square stone before the
threshold. A red maple leaf was washed in from the path and lay a wet bit
of colour upon the floor. "I wonder where old man Levi is?" he said
suddenly.
"In the rain, I'm afraid," Betty answered, "and he has rheumatism, too; he
was laid up for three months last winter."
She spoke quietly, but she was conscious of a quiver from head to foot, as
if a strong wind had swept over her.
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