“Like you? Is she beautiful like you?”
“I do not suppose any one could think of me, looking at her,” answered Eva, speaking her honest conviction.
“I should like to see your sister and your mother,” said the man, “Might I? Would it be unpardonable if I called on them?”
“I do not know, we have seen few people since my father was killed.”
“Killed, did you say? Killed?”
“Yes,” answered Eva, almost in a whisper; “my father was shot down in the street by a man he was arresting.”
“Shot down! That was terrible! Forgive me, young lady, if I have made you cry. Nothing was further from my thoughts.”
CHAPTER VIII.
TRYING THINGS ON.
The stout woman who had brought on this conversation came up now, her face beaming with curiosity and her dress fluttering ludicrously.
“Well Herman, don’t you think I have been kept waiting about long enough? One gets out of patience, Miss, especially when one is used to being studied and waited on by no end of servants, and such like. Now, if you’ll just look out of the window, you’ll find my footman watching the front entrance like a cat, with one hand on the carriage-door; for he knows well enough there’d be a high breeze if I was kept waiting a single minute; so you mustn’t wonder if I am just a trifle hard on shop girls—I always keep them on the jump.”