“I did not mean just that, Miss Fanny,” he stammered. “But some of the academy girls have a way of laughing if you are not on your best behavior every moment. And I am a plain, old-fashioned fellow. I like Scotch ballads ever so much better than opera music, that I can’t understand a word of; but I do believe Kate would think it a disgrace to sing in anything but Italian. And woods and trees, and rambles through them, and talks with friends, seem like ballad-singing to me.”
“Now, Dick, that is a nice, pretty idea. You see you do have thoughts quite like other people. And the ballad-singing is delightful. I like it myself.”
“I wish you would keep on down to the pines,” said, Dick wistfully. “It is just a pleasant drive. I have to go for Kate at six; and here I have an hour on my hands.”
“I cannot to-day, though I’m much obliged, Dick,” with a pause and a questioning glance.
“Well.”
“I would like to ask a favor.”
“Anything. I’d be glad to do it for you.”
“Jennie Ryder is just getting over her fever, you know. I was down there yesterday, and she was wishing I owned a carriage—which I never shall. But if you could, and would, take her out, it would give me as much pleasure as going myself.”
“I will,” returned Dick, with alacrity.
Fan told mamma and me.