Miss Patty suddenly took her fingers out of her ears and turned around.  She was flushed and shaken, but she looked past him without blinking an eyelash to me.

“Dear me,” she said, “the sermon must have been exciting, Minnie!  You are quite trembly!”

And with that she picked up her muff and went out, with not a glance at him.

He looked at me.

“Well,” he said, “That’s over.  She’s angry, Minnie, and she’ll never forgive me.”

“Stuff!” I snapped, “I notice she waited to hear it all, and no real woman ever hated a man for saying he loved her.”

CHAPTER XXIX

A BIG NIGHT TO-NIGHT

I carried out the supper to the shelter-house as usual that night, but I might have saved myself the trouble.  Mrs. Dicky was sitting on a box, with her hair in puffs and the folding card-table before her, and Mr. Dick was uncorking a bottle of champagne with a nail.  There were two or three queer-smelling cans open on the table.

Mrs. Dick looked at my basket and turned up her nose.

“Put it anywhere, Minnie,” she said loftily, “I dare say it doesn’t contain anything reckless.”

“Cold ham and egg salad,” I said, setting it down with a slam.  “Stewed prunes and boiled rice for dessert.  If those cans taste as they smell, you’d better keep the basket to fall back on.  Where’d you get that?” Mr. Dick looked at me over the bottle and winked.  “In the next room,” he said, “iced to the proper temperature, paid for by somebody else, and coming after a two-weeks’ drought!  Minnie, there isn’t a shadow on my joy!”

“He’ll miss it,” I said.  But Mr. Dick was pouring out three large tumblersful of the stuff, and he held one out to me.

“Miss it!” he exclaimed.  “Hasn’t he been out three times to-day, tapping his little Cache?  And didn’t he bring out Moody and the senator and von Inwald this afternoon, and didn’t they sit in the next room there from two to four, roaring songs and cracking bottles and jokes.”

“Beasts!” Mrs. Dicky said savagely.  “Two hours, and we daren’t move!”

“Drink, pretty creature!” Mr. Dick said, motioning to my glass.  “Don’t be afraid of it, Minnie; it’s food and drink.”

“I don’t like it,” I said, sipping at it.  “I’d rather have the spring water.”

“You’ll have to cultivate a taste for it,” he explained.  “You’ll like the second half better.”

I got it down somehow and started for the door.  Mr. Dick came after me with something that smelled fishy on the end of a fork.

“Better eat something,” he suggested.  “That was considerable champagne, Minnie.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” I said.  “I was tired and it has rested me.  That’s all, Mr. Dick.”

“Sure?”

“Certainly,” I said with dignity, “I’m really rested, Mr. Dick.  And happy—­I’m very happy, Mr. Dick.”