“Well, so I shall be,” replied Alison, “for surely, miss, you will not play the coquette with my brother.”
As no one before had ever hinted that Laura possessed any of the qualities of a coquette, she was covered with confusion and indignantly repudiated any such charge. “You know better than to say such a thing as that, Alison Ross,” she said.
“How was I to know better after your speech, Laura Ross that is to be,” laughed Alison. “You are in a box, and may as well own up. When is it to be? Come, tell me.”
“Oh, why—Alison, I don’t know.”
“But some day, truly?”
“Yes, I suppose I may acknowledge that it will be some day, but now we are all troubled about Blythe. I did think that when he married and brought his wife home I might be satisfied to leave my mother.”
“Then why not have it so?”
“Because she whom I hoped he would marry, has thoughts of another.”
“If you mean me,” returned Alison frankly, “John might have told you it would not be so.”
“How did he know?”