'Only acting, Jessie!' mimicked Miss West, whose sharp ears lost not a word. 'Why, what else should it be? Or else she's married to Gus--Scotch fashion, my dear. "I take thee, Rosalind (meaning Jessie), for wife," says Gus. "I do take thee, Orlando (meaning Gus), for my husband," says Jessie. But she'd say that to any man who played Orlando as well as Gus does--wouldn't you, Jessie?'
'Of course I would,' replied Jessie, entering into her friend's humour.
'Why, my dear, I knew a young lady who was married a dozen times a week (in two pieces every night) for more than six months. And her sweetheart was the stage carpenter, and saw it all from the wings--imagine his sufferings, my dear! Ah, but such marriages are often a good deal happier than real ones; there's more fun in them, certainly. Jessie, there's ten o'clock striking; it's time for you to go. Now mind,' concluded Miss West, addressing me, 'no more standing on ceremony; you're welcome to come and go when you like; we shall look on you as we look on Jessie, as one of the family.'
I promised to come very often, and Miss West said I could not come too often. There was no mistaking the hearty sincerity of the invitation. Jessie and I walked very slowly home, and she listened delightedly to my praises of her acting.
'I don't want them at home to know about it, Chris,' she said; 'at least, not till I tell them.'
'Very well, Jessie;' and we entered the little parlour together in a very happy mood.
[CHAPTER XXIII.]
THE SUNDAY-NIGHT SUPPERS AT THE WESTS'.
In due time I was introduced to other members of the West family, and grew so much attached to them, and so enamoured of their ways, that I spent nearly all my leisure in their company. Uncle Bryan seemed to resent this, growling that 'new brooms swept clean,' and asking me sarcastically if I intended to adopt the fashion through life of throwing over old friends for new ones. Jessie stepped in to defend me, and said boldly that uncle Bryan was not so fond of our society as to have reasonable cause to grumble at our absence.
'How do you know that?' asked uncle Bryan sharply. 'You want people to be like peacocks or jackdaws, always showing their feathers or chattering about themselves.'