Waiting a few moments for the sergeant to retire she
and Zany slipped down and out before Whately left his room. They
reached the grove from the back entrance of the house, and
concealing themselves in some copse-wood, watched for Whately's
coming. He soon appeared, walking rapidly as if fearing to be behind
time. He was in fact some moments late, having stopped to advise
Perkins of the affair on hand. He passed so near his cousin's leafy
screen that she could look into his flushed, troubled face and could
hear him mutter, "Curse it all! I'm forever getting into scrapes."
For the first time since Zany's news, pity overcame her anger and
she murmured, "Poor spoiled boy! It's well for you and your mother
that I'm here."
Swiftly she followed him through the still dusky grove, keeping the
boles of trees between herself and his form. Beyond the grove was an
open grassy field, facing the east, where the light was distinct.
Clearly outlined against the rose-tinted horizon was the figure of
Maynard standing with his arms folded and his back toward them,
apparently lost in deep thought.
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