tin horn in the ear of a teacher whom she disliked. He learned that she was contemptuous of boys who wore "spring skates, you know," instead of the hockey skates which screwed to the sole of the shoe; and he marked the distinction in his memory as if it were a point of correct dress to be observed. And he was so unaffectedly interested in everything she said—in such sympathetic accord with all her likes and dislikes, and so eager to hear every scrap of information that would help him to imagine her in the life which she had led in their separation—that she enjoyed her walk like a princess among courtiers and rewarded him, regally, with her smile.
When they saw the towers of "Varsity" showing in dark grey above the snow-powdered tops of the pines which screened the building from this approach, he was reminded of his cousin, and asked quickly: "Have you seen him—Conroy—yet?"
"Not yet."
"He will be calling to see you as soon as he hears."
"I suppose so. Yes."
"If your mother's not too ill."
"But," she laughed, "I didn't say she was so ill. It was Mrs. Kimball who was afraid she might be getting pneumonia. I just—I didn't like to say I was going to church without her, so I said I was going . . . to take a little walk . . . while the sun was out."
"Oh." When he had readjusted his thoughts to that change in the situation, he went on boldly: "I might call with him, then?"
