“Education,” he said laughing heartily.  “That’s mine, too.”  He spoke a creed.  “I ain’t never had it and I ain’t never missed it.”

“Most folks are happy without an education,” said Lulu.

“You’re not very happy, though.”

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Well, sir,” said Ninian, “I’ll tell you what we’ll do.  While I’m here I’m going to take you and Ina and Dwight up to the city.”

“To the city?”

“To a show.  Dinner and a show.  I’ll give you one good time.”

“Oh!” Lulu leaned forward.  “Ina and Dwight go sometimes.  I never been.”

“Well, just you come with me.  I’ll look up what’s good.  You tell me just what you like to eat, and we’ll get it——­”

She said:  “I haven’t had anything to eat in years that I haven’t cooked myself.”

He planned for that time to come, and Lulu listened as one intensely experiencing every word that he uttered.  Yet it was not in that future merry-making that she found her joy, but in the consciousness that he—­some one—­any one—­was planning like this for her.

Meanwhile Di and Bobby had rounded the corner by an old hop-house and kept on down the levee.  Now that the presence of the others was withdrawn, the two looked about them differently and began themselves to give off an influence instead of being pressed upon by overpowering personalities.  Frogs were chorusing in the near swamp, and Bobby wanted one.  He was off after it.  But Di eventually drew him back, reluctant, frogless.  He entered upon an exhaustive account of the use of frogs for bait, and as he talked he constantly flung stones.  Di grew restless.  There was, she had found, a certain amount of this to be gone through before Bobby would focus on the personal.  At length she was obliged to say, “Like me to-day?” And then he entered upon personal talk with the same zest with which he had discussed bait.

“Bobby,” said Di, “sometimes I think we might be married, and not wait for any old money.”

They had now come that far.  It was partly an authentic attraction, grown from out the old repulsion, and partly it was that they both—­and especially Di—­so much wanted the experiences of attraction that they assumed its ways.  And then each cared enough to assume the pretty role required by the other, and by the occasion, and by the air of the time.

“Would you?” asked Bobby—­but in the subjunctive.

She said:  “Yes.  I will.”

“It would mean running away, wouldn’t it?” said Bobby, still subjunctive.

“I suppose so.  Mamma and papa are so unreasonable.”

“Di,” said Bobby, “I don’t believe you could ever be happy with me.”

“The idea!  I can too.  You’re going to be a great man—­you know you are.”

Bobby was silent.  Of course he knew it—­but he passed it over.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to elope and surprise the whole school?” said Di, sparkling.