Smith. He roamed up and down the road almost every day, going
into the field, as the girls could see from their elevation in
Fitz-James's woods, and stopping at the Clarks' on his return if he saw
any of the family on the veranda, to inquire what news had come from
their nephew.
"I generally admire persistency," remarked Mr. Clark one day to Mrs.
Smith and Dorothy, and the Ethels, "but in this case it irritates me.
When you tell a man that you can't sell to him and that you wouldn't if
you could it seems as if he might take the hint and go away."
"I don't like him," and Mrs. Smith gave a shrug of distaste. "He doesn't
look you squarely in the face."
"I hate that trick he has of brushing his hair out of his eyes. It makes
me nervous," confessed the younger Miss Clark.
"I can't see why a botanist doesn't occasionally look at a plant,"
observed Dorothy. "We've watched him day after day and we've almost
never seen him do a thing except push his stick into the ground and
examine it afterwards."
"Do you remember that girl who was with him at the Flower Festival?"
inquired Ethel Brown. "I saw her with him again this afternoon at the
field. When he pushed his cane down something seemed to stick to it when
it came up and he wiped it off with his hand and gave it to her."
"Could you see what it was like?"
"It looked like dirt to me.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172