|
Posco sat by the stable door, plucking up bits of grass and twisting them in his hands, and he looked thoughtfully at the door of the Inn. By now Marcho and Bingo would be riding home and, yes, even Blanco, his own brother. Aunt Malva had insisted on Peony staying for a week or perhaps longer to help with the work, and Posco had seized this opportunity to stay closer to Lily. Yet he knew she would be going home soon, as well.
He did not know why he sat so close to the Inn, and so obviously in sight. He did not know what he would say if he met with Lily, and he did not know what he should do. Perhaps she would still be angry at him, for she had seemed rather angry the previous evening. He could not see why, or at least he had not been able to, until Blanco's fist had met his face. It seemed likely that Lily had been puzzled but his silence, but he could not have said yes, no matter how much his heart yearned for it. If she came out now and saw him, he would be as polite as he could be, and if she insisted upon his answer he would explain to her why it could not come.
He looked at the door for a few moments more, and then he got up and went around to the other side of the stable, where he could not be seen from the Inn.
|