"I declare it's—Kitty," says he again. And I kept still. I wouldn't stir.
"Come! come! you don't bear malice, I hope," says he, and he came up to shake hands.
"Bear malice! What for?" said I slowly. I thought I'd keep strict to the "least said" plan.
"What for! Oh, come! that's good," he broke out, with a laugh.
He meant about the watch, of course—but I did wonder he could laugh.
"I don't see anything to make fun of," I said.
"Well, no—nor do I," says he. "Most serious event in a man's life, isn't it?"
And he sat down by my side. "Kitty, you're prettier than ever," says he softly.
But that was going too far. I couldn't stand it. Something in his manner and speech angered me; and I thought how he had led me into saddening my father's last days—how perhaps even, but for him, father might have been living still, and mother well, and I a happy girl in the dear old home! No; that was going too far!
"Good-bye," I said. "My train will start soon." And I got up and walked away.