"Oh, Mrs. Harrington and two men she has brought to spend the day—one of them is the person who checked our horses that day."
"I thought I heard the widow's voice as I came through the hall," said Tom. "Well, well, it's better so! You see I don't want to make a donkey of myself."
"Tom, you are the best creature in the world," cried Elizabeth.
"Oh, Lord bless you, no," said Tom, rubbing his forehead in a disconsolate way; "I ain't good; there's nothing like that about me. 'Pon my word, I'm quite shocked lately to see what an envious, bad-hearted old wretch I'm getting to be."
"We won't go downstairs yet," said Elizabeth; "sit down here and let's have a comfortable talk, like old times, Tom."
"Well, no, I guess not, thank you—it's very kind of you," returned he, getting very red. "You see I can't stay but an hour—I must take the next train, for I've lots of things to do."
"Oh, I thought you would spend the night."
"Now, don't ask me—I can't—it wouldn't be wise if I could," cried Tom, giving his hair an unmerciful combing with his fingers.
"No," she replied, regarding him with womanly pity; "perhaps not. And you would like to go down stairs?"
"I'm a fool to wish it," he answered; "those fine people will only laugh at me, and I know when I see that magnifico and his popinjay friend about Elsie I shall want to wring their conceited necks. But I'll go—oh, it's no use telling lies! You understand just what a fool I am—I came because I feel as if I must see her once more!"