Pauline Murray's eyes light up with an expression quite the reverse of homesickness.
"I am afraid we shall trespass on a most generous hospitality."
Violet seconds her husband's request. They were to take in Long Branch as they went down, but it will be out of season now, and Pauline must go to her aunt at Baltimore or remain with some friend until the business is settled. So the Grandons' invitation is cordially accepted.
Mr. Murray spends the next two days in the city, while Mr. Grandon is busy with his own affairs, as on the evening of the third they are to start for Chicago. He finds his daughter serenely happy and not yet at the end of pleasures.
"But I think you had better be careful about the young man, Polly," says her father, as they are promenading the lawn at the river's edge, in confidential chat.
"Be careful!" Miss Murray's fair face is a vivid scarlet, and she fans herself violently with her chip hat, as if overcome with the heat.
"Yes, he is a handsome young man, but——"
"And he is pleasant, he has a lovely temper, and—and—I don't know why you should find fault with him, papa," she answers, warmly.
"Why, I have not found fault with him"; and there is a funny twinkle in her father's eye.
"When people say 'but' it always seems like finding fault," says Miss Murray, resentfully.