"You may think," said she, "that, knowing what I did, it was
very queer for me to come out to you this morning, but I
could not help it. You were getting dreadfully careless, and
were staying so late and doing things which people would have
been bound to notice, especially as father is always talking
about our enjoying the fresh hours of the morning, that I felt I
could not let you go on any longer. And when it came to that fan
business I saw plainly that you must either immediately start for
Europe or--"

"Or what?" I interrupted.

"Or go to my father and regularly engage yourself as a--"

I do not know whether she was going to say "gardener" or not,
but it did not matter. I stopped her.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later, and we were standing
together at the edge of the woods. She wanted me to come to the
house to take breakfast with them.

"Oh, I could not do that!" I said. "They would be so
surprised. I should have so much to explain before I could even
begin to state my case."

"Well, then, explain," said she. "You will find father on
the front piazza. He is always there before breakfast, and there
is plenty of time. After all that has been said here, I cannot
go to breakfast and look commonplace while you run away."