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Updated: June 25, 2025
That is how Miss Georgie found them occupied except that Good Indian had stopped long enough to soothe Evadna and her aunt, and to explain that the water would really not rise much higher in the milk-house, and that he didn't believe Evadna's pet bench at the head of the pond would be inaccessible because of his efforts.
There were five springs altogether; he proposed that each one make himself responsible for a certain spring, and see to it that no water reached the jumpers. "And I don't care a tinker's dam how you do it," he said. "Drink it all, if you want to. I'll take the biggest that one under the milk-house." Whereat they jeered at him for wanting to be close to Evadna.
So for an hour, perhaps. "Is Miss Georgie Howard at home?" It was Evadna standing in the doorway, her indigo eyes fixed with innocent gayety which her mouth somehow failed to meet halfway in mirth upon the reader. "She is, chicken, and overjoyed at the sight of you!"
And because she was yet a timid rider and feared to keep the pace set by the others, it was Evadna who heard and turned back to see what was the trouble. Aunt Phoebe was standing beside the road, waving a flask. "It's the cream for your coffee," she cried, going to meet Evadna. "You can slip it into your jacket-pocket, can't you, honey?
Panting, laughing, swearing also in breathless exclamations, he forced her to the top of the steps, backed recklessly down them, and came to a stop in the corner by the door. Evadna had taken refuge there; and he pressed her hard against the rough wall without in the least realizing that anything was behind him save unsentient stone.
Phoebe's eyes sought Grant's anxiously. "I don't doubt but what it's more important to you than anything else on earth, but I'm thinking some of the home I'm likely to lose." Evadna drew back, and made a movement to go. "Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose you and Grant were busy discussing those men in the orchard " "Don't be silly, child.
"When did you come up?" Good Indian asked her, trying so hard to keep a placating note out of his voice that he made himself sound apologetic. "Oh about an hour ago, I think," Evadna drawled sweetly the sweet tones which always mean trouble, when employed by a woman.
It humiliated him even to think of apologizing or explaining, and he was the type of man who resents humiliation more keenly than a direct injury. As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and magnanimous superiority to any feeling so humanly petty as jealousy which is extremely irritating to anyone who is at all sensitive to atmospheric conditions.
Grant's lips twitched, and there was a covert twinkle in his eyes, though he looked around him with elaborate surprise. "It's early in the day for mosquitoes," he drawled; "but I was sure I heard one buzzing somewhere close." "Aunt Phoebe ought to get a street roller to smooth your manners," Evadna observed pointedly.
Good Indian bit his lip, got up, and threw his cigarette out of the window, and looked at her reproachfully, and felt vaguely that he was misunderstood and most unjustly placed upon the defensive. "I only came over," Evadna went on, as sweetly as before, "to say that there's a package at the store which I can't very well carry, and I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind taking it when you go."
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