Comethup, who was really a little captivated by the man's manner, murmured politely that he would be very glad to see him in town, and that he was quite sure they would always be good friends. Mr. Robert Carlaw wrung his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, and appeared very grateful and very much moved. So complete was his gratitude, indeed, that he was not to be shaken off in any way; he kept quite close to his young friend until they were all ready to get again into the carriage.
The drive home was a silent one, at least for some part of it. Within a few miles of the town Mr. Robert Carlaw fell into a heavy slumber, and the three drew heads together and conversed in whispers. Comethup, who had not been very happy all day, received unexpected comfort, for, as he sat beside the girl, he suddenly felt her warm, slim fingers slipped into his hand, and he held them softly until the carriage stopped. If the captain saw anything, he was discreet enough not to appear to notice it.
They shook Mr. Carlaw to consciousness at his own gate. He was profuse in apologies and thanks, and it was somewhat difficult to get rid of him; indeed, he ran back to the carriage just as it was starting, to grasp Comethup again by the hand and to look fervently into his eyes.
They all got out at the captain's cottage, and 'Linda and Comethup lingered for a moment in the garden among the roses, while the captain went inside. When the captain came out again, smoking, the girl announced that she must go home at once; it was getting late. Comethup immediately offered to escort her, and she kissed the captain and went off with the boy down the road in the twilight.
Now there were a hundred things which Comethup wished to say; a hundred indefinite and tantalizing matters to which he seemed vaguely to seek an answer. But the boy was more afraid of this slip of a girl than he had ever been of anything or any one in all his life; the very flutter of her dress in the semi-darkness, the light touch of a ribbon-end which blew out and whipped his hand once as he walked beside her, were disquieting and awe-inspiring things. He tried frantically, as he had tried before, to hark back to the old days when they had been children, and she had clung to him and cried upon his shoulder. But this was no child; this was something wonderful, that had her eyes and her voice, and a suggestion of her in many little ways; but it was a different being, and the child of old times might have been a ghost indeed, as he had once believed, for anything she had in common with this girl. Yet something must be said, and he plunged at the matter.