"Oh, you need not thank me," said Eve, tossing her head with a
hypocrisy all her own. "It is not out of affection for you I do it,
you may be very sure of that; but it looks so ridiculous to see my
brother slipping out of my way behind a tree as soon as he sees me
coming--oh! oh! oh! oh!" And a violent burst of sobs and tears
revealed how that incident had rankled in this stoical little heart.
David, with the tear in his own eye, clasped her in his arms, and
kissed her and coaxed her and begged her again and again to forgive
him. This she did internally at the first word; but externally no;
pouted and sobbed till she had exacted her full tribute, then cleared
up with sudden alacrity and inquired his plans.
"I am going to call at Font Abbey, and find out whether I have
offended her."
Eve demurred, "That would never do. You would betray yourself and
there would be an end of you. How good I am not to let you go. No,
I'll call there. I shall quietly find out whether it is her doing that
we have not been invited so long, or whose it is. You stay where you
are. I won't be a minute."
When the minute was thirty-five, David came under her window and
called her. She popped her head out: "Well?"
"What are you doing?"
"Putting on my bonnet."
"Why, you have been an hour."
"You wouldn't have me go there a fright, would you?"
At last she came down and started for Font Abbey, and David was left
to count the minutes till her return.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111