Missy's heart gave a swift, tumultuous dive and flight.
Then he let go her hand, and patiently turned his eyes to the next comer; but not with the same expression--Missy was sure of that. She walked on after her father in a kind of daze. The whole thing had taken scarcely a second; but, oh! what can be encompassed in a second!
Missy was very silent during the homeward journey; she intensely wanted to be silent. Once father said:
“Well, the man's certainly magnetic--but he seems a decent kind of fellow. I suppose a lot has been exaggerated.” He chuckled. “But I'll bet some of the Cherryvale ladies are a little disappointed.”
“Oh, that!” Missy felt a hot flame of indignation flare up inside her. “He wouldn't act that way! anybody could tell. I think it's a crime to talk so about him!”
Father gave another chuckle, very low; but Missy was too engrossed with her resentment and with other vague, jumbled emotions to notice it.
That night she had difficulty in getting to sleep. And, for the first time in weeks, visions of Commencement failed to waft her off to dreams. She was hearing over and over, in a kind of lullaby, a deep, melodious voice: “Your daughter?--you're a man to be envied, sir!”--was seeing a pair of dark bright eyes, smiling into her own with a beam of kinship ineffable.
Next day, at school, she must listen to an aftermath of gossipy surmise anent the disappointing osculatory hero. At last she could stand it no longer.
“I think it's horrid to talk that way! Anybody can see he's not that kind of man!”
“Why, I thought you said he was disgusting!”
But Missy, giving him a withering look, turned and walked away, leaving him to ponder the baffling contrarieties of the feminine sex.
A new form of listlessness now took hold of Missy. That afternoon she didn't want to study, didn't want to go over to Kitty Allen's when her friend telephoned, didn't even want to work on hats; this last was a curious turn, indeed, and to a wise observer might have been significant. She had only a desire to be alone, and was grateful for the excuse her thesis provided her; though it must be admitted precious little was inscribed, that bright May afternoon, on the patient tablet which kept Missy company in the summerhouse.