Miss Ri swung around sharply and took the girl's face between her hands. "Verlinda, Verlinda," she said, "I wish I could turn a search-light on that heart of yours?"
"Why, Aunt Ri?"
"Oh, because, because, a woman's reason." Then she put her arms around the girl and hugged her close to her ample night-dress. "You are a darling child. Teach as long as you like; it will be so much the better for me than seeing you go off to Hartford."
Linda felt the color rise to her face. "How do you know that opportunity will ever be afforded me?" she asked lightly.
"If it hasn't been, it will. How did that miserable usurper look?"
"Very handsome; in quite correct evening dress, which suited him perfectly. Aunt Ri, it would be a privilege to sit opposite such a fine-looking man three times a day for the rest of my life."
"It would, would it? and have to use a knife to dissect him before you could find out what he really felt about anything? And even then you wouldn't discover a thing in his veins but ice-water."
Linda laughed. "You can be the most vehement person for one who pretends to be so mild and serene. I notice that where those you love are concerned, you are anything but mild, bless your dear heart. Don't be scared, Aunt Ri; I'll never leave Sandbridge, never. I'll never leave the dear old Eastern Shore for anyone. No, indeed."
"Who is vehement now, Verlinda Talbot? I verily believe that man has proposed to you. I am convinced of it. Oh, my dear, maybe after all you ought to consider him, for that would settle it all. You could live in the old home and be happy ever after, only, Verlinda, Verlinda, what would become of Berk?"