"Well, ask some one else whom you can believe," says he, a-turning red. "Here is Miss ——, she can tell you."
I didn't hear the name clear, but Dempster introduced me to a young lady that had just sat down by me.
"Are those men who are chatting and laughing so, really ministers?" says I to her.
"Most of them are; the rest are connected with the Legation," says she. "Elegant, don't you think so?"
Before I could ask her what newfangled society had been got up under the name of Legation, a young gentleman with a round gold glass screwed into one eye, came out from the hive of ministers, and walked toward us, moving along slow and lazy, as if walking were too much for him.
The girl was all in a flutter when she saw him a-coming our way. She looked at me as if I had a seat that she wanted for some one else, but I didn't move; and after shaking out her dress as a cross hen flutters its feathers, she pretended to look the other way, as if she didn't care a mite whether the young minister came up or not.
Oh, the airs some of these school-girls put on is disgusting.
The young divinity student came up with a sort of half-dancing step.
"Miss," says he, a-bowing and chewing up his words as if he'd a piece of sweet flag-root in his mouth, "delighted to—aw—aw—have the honor of seeing you here—am, indeed."
She bowed, she prismed up her mouth, waved her fan a trifle, and says she—