"I'll be there," replied the schoolmaster, making his way again towards
the group of girls.

Nothing further happened until the old folk came in, and the party broke
up. Driving homewards with Miss Conklin, Bancroft began:

"How can I thank you enough for being so kind to me? You called me out
often, almost as often as I called you."

"I did that to rile Seth Stevens."

"And not at all to please me?"

"Perhaps a little," she said, and silence fell upon them.

His caution led him to restrain himself. He was disturbed by vague
doubts, and felt the importance of a decisive word. Presently Miss
Conklin spoke, in a lower voice than usual, but with an accent of
coquettish triumph in the question:

"So you like me after all? Like me really?"

"Do you doubt it?" His accent was reproachful. "But why do you say
'after all'?"

"You never kissed me comin' back from church last Sunday, and I showed
you the school and everythin'!"

"Might I have kissed you then? I was afraid of offending you."

"Offendin' me? Well, I guess not! Every girl expects to be kissed when
she goes out with a man."

"Let's make up for it now, Loo. May I call you Loo?" While speaking he
slipped his arm round her waist, and kissed her again and again.

"That's my name. But there! I guess you've made up enough already." And
Miss Conklin disengaged herself. On reaching the house, however, she
offered her lips before getting out of the buggy. When alone in his
bedroom, Bancroft sat and thought. The events of the evening had
been annoying. Miss Loo's conduct had displeased him; he did not like
familiarity. He would not acknowledge to himself that he was jealous.
The persistent way Stevens had tried to puzzle her had disgusted
him--that was all. It was sufficiently plain that in the past she had
encouraged Stevens. Her freedom and boldness grated upon his nerves. He
condemned her with a sense of outraged delicacy. Girls ought not to
make advances; she had no business to ask him whether he liked her; she
should have waited for him to speak plainly. He only required what was
right. Yet the consciousness that she loved him flattered his vanity
and made him more tolerant; he resolved to follow her lead or to improve
upon it. Why shouldn't he? She had said "every girl expects to be
kissed." And if she wanted to be kissed, it was the least he could do to
humour her.

All the while, at the bottom of his heart there was bitterness. He would
have given muc