"Why, how did you come?" she cried, gaily, "stealing in this way through the back premises?"
"By water, dear lady," he answered, still stammering. "I brought back the canoe, you know!"
"By my dear river, and through the great, still woods!" she exclaimed, looking him over with clear eyes of approval. "How lovely! I wish I'd been with you!"
"I wish you had!" said Robert, with devout conviction.
"But how tired you must be, all that journey against the current. Really, Robert, it was _very_ nice of you to come so soon!"
Now Robert was in a sad state of bewilderment, dazzled by eyes and lips and scarlet shoes. And he was further shaken from his customary poise by his perception of Barbara's change in the arrangement of her hair, and by what seemed a sudden increase in her stature through the lengthening of her frocks. Otherwise he would not have been so stupid as to imagine that the promptitude of his coming called for any apology in Barbara's eyes, whatever might be the opinion of Doctor John, or Doctor Jim, or Mistress Mehitable Ladd!
"I thought I ought to come at once, you know," he explained, "to bring back the canoe! Otherwise I should have waited, as I ought, for Mr. Glenowen's coming, and an invitation from him."
"Oh!" said Barbara, her face changing slightly, her voice growing a little cooler. "That was very thoughtful of you. I couldn't sleep for thinking of the canoe!"
Robert looked at her doubtfully, wondering if that were sarcasm in her voice.
"I wonder you did not want to keep it a little longer, then,--at least, till Uncle Bob could come and send you a proper, formal invitation to bring it back!" said Barbara.
"But I wanted to bring it back now,--I thought it was such a good excuse for coming at once, though I knew I _ought_ to have waited for the invitation, of course," persisted Robert, vaguely worried.
"Oh!" exclaimed Barbara, again, allowing herself to be mollified in part, but still feeling a shade of disappointment. She was too inexperienced to appreciate the tribute of Robert's confusion and unexpected awkwardness. She liked him so much better in his grand, elaborate, self-possessed manner, paying stately compliments, making her feel important and grown-up by formal homage. However, he certainly was very nice, and he certainly looked very distinguished; and she realised that, for all his apparent solicitude about returning the canoe, the canoe was not his reason for coming so soon. She would forgive him,--but she would punish him! In fact, she was making progress in the arts of the imperishable feminine.