“My soul!” said William's father. “Hasn't that girl gone home YET?”
“He looks pale to me,” Mrs. Baxter murmured, absently. “I don't think he seems at all well, lately.”
During seventeen years Mr. Baxter had gradually learned not to protest anxieties of this kind, unless he desired to argue with no prospect of ever getting a decision. “Hasn't she got any HOME?” he demanded, testily. “Isn't she ever going to quit visiting the Parchers and let people have a little peace?”
Mrs. Baxter disregarded this outburst as he had disregarded her remark about William's pallor. “You mean Miss Pratt?” she inquired, dreamily, her eyes following the progress of her son. “No, he really doesn't look well at all.”
“Is she going to visit the Parchers all summer?” Mr. Baxter insisted.
“She already has, about,” said Mrs. Baxter.
“Look at that boy!” the father grumbled. “Mooning along with those other moon-calves--can't even let her go to church alone! I wonder how many weeks of time, counting it out in hours, he's wasted that way this summer?”
“Oh, I don't know! You see, he never goes there in the evening.”
“What of that? He's there all day, isn't he? What do they find to talk about? That's the mystery to me! Day after day; hours and hours--My soul! What do they SAY?”
Mrs. Baxter laughed indulgently. “People are always wondering that about the other ages. Poor Willie! I think that a great deal of the time their conversation would be probably about as inconsequent as it is now. You see Willie and Joe Bullitt are walking one on each side of Miss Pratt, and Johnnie Watson has to walk behind with May Parcher. Joe and Johnnie are there about as much as Willie is, and, of course, it's often his turn to be nice to May Parcher. He hasn't many chances to be tete-a-tete with Miss Pratt.”
“Well, she ought to go home. I want that boy to get back into his senses. He's in an awful state.”
“I think she is going soon,” said Mrs. Baxter. “The Parchers are to have a dance for her Friday night, and I understand there's to be a floor laid in the yard and great things. It's a farewell party.”
“And if you wonder what they say,” she resumed, “why, probably they're all talking about the party. And when Willie IS alone with her--well, what does anybody say?” Mrs. Baxter interrupted herself to laugh. “Jane, for instance--she's always fascinated by that darky, Genesis, when he's at work here in the yard, and they have long, long talks; I've seen them from the window. What on earth do you suppose they talk about? That's where Jane is now. She knew I told Genesis I'd give him something if he'd come and freeze the ice-cream for us to-day, and when we got here she heard the freezer and hopped right around there. If you went out to the back porch you'd find them talking steadily--but what on earth about I couldn't guess to save my life!”