The Rumours of the Valley

"Fifteen minutes is the limit," he called to her, as she went upstairs.

She was back again almost immediately, and Hepsey watched them in
wide-mouthed astonishment as they went down hill together, for it was
not in her code of manners that "walking out" should begin so soon. When
they approached Miss Ainslie's he pointed out the brown house across
from it, on the other side of the hill.

"Yonder palatial mansion is my present lodging," he volunteered, "and I
am a helpless fly in the web of the 'Widder' Pendleton."

"Pendleton," repeated Ruth; "why, that's Joe's name."

"It is," returned Winfield, concisely. "He sits opposite me at the
table, and wonders at my use of a fork. It is considered merely a spear
for bread and meat at the 'Widder's.' I am observed closely at all
times, and in some respects Joe admires me enough to attempt imitation,
which, as you know, is the highest form of flattery. For instance, this
morning he wore not only a collar and tie, but a scarf pin. It was
a string tie, and I've never before seen a pin worn in one, but it's
interesting."

"It must be."

"He has a sweetheart," Winfield went on, "and I expect she'll be
dazzled."

"My Hepsey is his lady love," Ruth explained.

"What? The haughty damsel who wouldn't let me in? Do tell!"

"You're imitating now," laughed Ruth, "but I shouldn't call it
flattery."

For a moment, there was a chilly silence. Ruth did not look at him, but
she bit her lip and then laughed, unwillingly. "'It's all true," she
said, "I plead guilty."