He seemed to see her, a quarter of a
mile away in the darkness, sitting in her window watching for him, as
Sylvia had watched for Richard.
He set his mouth hard and crossed the road. He had just reached his
own yard when there was the pale flutter of a skirt out of the
darkness before him, and a little shadowy figure met him with a soft
shock. The was a smothered nervous titter from the figure. Barney did
not know who it was; he muttered an apology, and was about to pass
into his yard when Rose Berry's voice arrested him. It was quite
trembling and uncertain; all the laughter had gone out of it.
"Oh, it's you," said she; "you frightened me. I didn't know who it
was."
Barney felt suddenly annoyed without knowing why. "Oh, is it you,
Rose?" he returned, stiffly. "It's a pleasant evening;" then he
turned.
"Barney!" Rose said, and her voice sounded as if she were weeping.
Barney stopped and waited.
"I want to know if--you're mad with me, Barney."
"No, of course I ain't; why?"
"I thought you'd acted kind of queer to me lately."
Barney stood still, frowning in the darkness. "I don't know what you
mean," he said at length. "I don't know how I've treated you any
different from any of the girls."
"You haven't been to see me, and--you've hardly spoken to me since
the cherry party."
"I haven't been to see anybody," said Barney, shortly; and he turned
away again, but Rose caught his arm.
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