"That isn't fair," he complained, making his way swiftly down, and
satisfying himself by a peep about the angle commanding her point
of the rock that she had, indeed, vanished. Sadly he descended to
his own nook--and jumped back with a half-suppressed yell.
"You needn't jump out of your skin on my account," said Miss Polly
Brewster, with a gracious smile. "I'm not a devilkin."
"You are! That is--I mean--I--I--beg your pardon. I--I--"
"The poor man's having another bashful fit," she observed, with
malicious glee. "Did the bold, bad, forward American minx scare it
almost out of its poor shy wits?"
"You--you startled me."
"No!" she exclaimed, in wide-eyed mock surprise. "Who would have
supposed it? You didn't expect me down here, did you?"
Thereupon she got a return shock.
"Yes, I did," he said; "sooner or later."
"Don't fib. Don't pretend that you knew I was here."
"W-w-well, no. Not just now. B-b-but I knew you'd come if--if--if
I pretended I didn't want you to long enough."
"Young and budding scientist," said she severely, "you're a gay
deceiver. Is it because you have known me in some former existence
that you are able thus accurately to read my character?"
"Well, I knew you wouldn't stay up there much longer.
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