"Well," said Tom, "there seems to be no end to them."
Everybody laughed at his tone, and Tom sat down near Elsie, tumbling her work, and making signs to her to go out of the room, that he might secure a few moments alone with her, but the little witch pretended not to understand his signals in the least, and went on demurely with her work.
"You ruin my work!" cried she, snatching her embroidery from his touch. "What on earth are you making such faces for?"
Tom laughed in a distressed way, red with confusion.
"Dazzled by your presence, Elsie," cried the widow, seeing that Tom had not presence of mind enough for the compliment.
Elizabeth began to get restless again; it was perfectly impossible for her to keep quiet any length of time that day, and she made some excuse for leaving them.
"Let me go with you," said Mrs. Harrington; "I know you are going to order luncheon, and I should so like to get a peep at your kitchen; it is a perfect Flemish picture."
"Particularly the crowd of dusky faces," said Elsie. "Mary Harrington, you're a humbug."
"I am sure she is quite right," said Tom, anxious to insure her departure; "I was in the kitchen one day and it looked as picturesque as Niagara."
Elsie perfectly understood the motive which led him to speak, and hastened to rejoin: