But amid the confusion Miss Edith found a chance to say a final word to me.  “Don’t you try,” she said, as I was about to mount my bicycle, “to keep those holly sprigs in your brain until Christmas.  They are awfully stickery, they will not last, and, besides, there will not be any Christmas.”

“And how about New-Year’s Day?” I asked.

“That is the way to talk,” skid she.  “Keep your mind on that and you will be all right.”

As I rode along I could not forget that it would be necessary for me to pass the inn.  I had made inquiries, but there were no byways which would serve my purpose.  There was nothing for me to do but keep on, and on I kept.  I should pass so noiselessly and so swiftly that I did not believe any one would notice me, unless, indeed, it should be the boy.  I earnestly hoped that I should not see the boy.

Whether or not I was seen from the inn as I passed it I do not know.  In fact, I did not know when I passed it.  No shout of immature diabolism caught my ear, no scent of lemon came into my nostrils, and I saw nothing but the line of road directly in front of me.

CHAPTER XVIII

REPENTANCE AVAILS NOT

When I was positively certain that I had left the little inn far behind me, I slackened my speed, and, perceiving a spreading tree by the road-side, I dismounted and sat down in the shade.  It was a hot day, and unconsciously I had been working very hard.  Several persons on wheels passed along the road, and every time I saw one approaching I was afraid that it might be somebody I knew, who might stop and sit by me in the shade.  I was now near enough to Walford to meet with people from that neighborhood, and I did not want to meet with any one just now.  I had a great many things to think about and just then I was busy trying to make up my mind whether or not it would be well for me to stop at the Putneys’.

If I should pass without stopping, some one in the lodge would probably see me, and the family would know of my discourtesy, but, although it would have been a very simple thing to do, and a very proper thing, I did not feel sure that I wanted to stop.  If Edith Larramie had never said anything about it, I think I would surely have made a morning call upon the Putneys.

After I had cooled off a little I rose to remount; I had not decided anything, but it was of no use to sit there any longer.  Glancing along the road towards Walford, I saw in the distance some one approaching on a wheel.  Involuntarily I stood still and watched the on-coming cyclist, who I saw was a woman.  She moved steadily and rapidly on the other side of the road.  Very soon I recognized her.  It was Miss Putney.

As she came nearer and nearer I was greatly impressed with her appearance.  Her costume was as suitable and becoming for the occasion as if it had been an evening dress for a ball, and she wheeled better than any woman cyclist I ever saw.  Her head was erect, her eyes straight before her, and her motion was rhythm of action.