time when she would have fought the thing out with him. But that time was past. She cared so much more for him than in those first days when she had come to Round Hill. And loving him, she was afraid. The very weapon of her defiance, which had once been so effective, she dared not use, lest she find him less tractable.
When Crispin demanded, "But how soon am I to see you?" she said.
"Some day in Baltimore."
She could, at least, she decided, have him at Miss Anne's. Or they could have tea somewhere together.
"I'll write, and let you know," she promised.
But it was not in Baltimore that she saw him next. For when she reached Round Hill there was a letter from Aunt Catherine. The two aunts wanted Hildegarde to visit them. It was nice now on the farm, and they were lonely. And they had some matters to talk over with her. Business. Of course, she must not come if it was not convenient, but they wished she might.
Hildegarde found herself longing suddenly for their homely faces, for their affection. For the little room where she had slept with her mother—her darling mother. And perhaps, if she went away from Daddy, he would miss her. He might not even want her to go. The things she had imagined might not be true, and he would beg her to stay.
But he did not beg her. When she told him that her aunts wanted her, "Why shouldn't they want you?" he asked gallantly.
"If you'd rather I didn't go, I'll stay at home."
