silence: “Miss Rue,” he said, “I have a word to say to your father and mother. Would you wait here until I come back?” “I think I had better go in, too––” “Please don’t.” “Why?” She stopped short, instinctively, but not surmising. “You will wait, then?” he asked. “I was going in.... But I’ll sit here a little while.” He rose and went in, rather blindly. Ruhannah, dreaming there deep in her splint armchair, slim feet crossed, watched the fireflies sailing over the alders. Sometimes she thought of Brandes, pleasantly, sometimes of other matters. Once the memory of her drive home through the wintry moonlight with young Neeland occurred to her, and the reminiscence was vaguely agreeable. Listless, a trifle sleepy, dreamily watching the fireflies, the ceaseless noise of the creek in her ears, inconsequential thoughts flitted through her brain—the vague, aimless, guiltless thoughts of a young and unstained mind. She was nearly asleep when Brandes came back, and 79 she looked up at him where he stood beside her porch chair in the darkness. 79 “Miss Rue,” he said, “I have told your father and mother that I am in love with you and want to make you my wife.” The girl lay there speechless, astounded. 80 CHAPTER VIII A CHANGE IMPENDS The racing season at Saratoga drew toward its close, and Brandes had appeared there only twice in person, both times with a very young girl. “If you got to bring her here to the races, can’t you get her some clothes?” whispered Stull in his ear. “That get-up of hers is something fierce.”
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