"Now, Helen, you know you won't."
"No! Well then we shall probably shake hands, and say—'How do you do? What lovely weather we are having.' That will be all."
At this moment the door was thrown open with a violence that shook its ancient hinges, and Katie, who had been absent ever since dinner-time, burst into the room. She was breathless with excitement, her cheeks were crimson, and there was certainly a spark of triumph in her eye.
"Girls!" she gasped, "what do you think has happened? No, I'm not going to let you guess, because I can't keep it another second—Barry has asked me to marry him!"
An awful pause ensued, and then Dido said, in a sharp voice, "And of course you said no!"
"And of course I said yes! Only imagine my having a proposal before you, Helen!" darting an exultant look at her pretty, pale cousin, who now suddenly unclasped her hands from behind her head, and sat up erect, and looked at her with eyes wide with horrified surprise.
Vanity is one of those curious elements in human nature which defy every rule, and impel the victim into the most unexpected courses. Barry had been put upon his mettle, and he was resolved to show Miss Denis her mistake at any cost. Accordingly he offered himself to the very first young lady he met, who happened to be her cousin, Katie, and here, within four hours of Helen's scornful rejection of his hand, he was engaged to a girl under the same roof as herself! The long exciting day, the unexpected encounter with Gilbert, Barry's proposal, and Barry's revenge, were too much for her over-wrought nerves; to the horror of Dido, and the amazement of Katie, their cousin received the news—and she, who had always been so down on Barry—in a storm of hysterical tears!
The next day brought the successful suitor to Crowmore to receive the congratulations of his friends; his attitude was one of sulky triumph as he nodded his acknowledgements of Dido's tepid felicitations, and Biddy's brief greeting—Biddy, who had more than once imparted to the bride elect that "she would not grudge Mr. Barry a good bating, to take the concate out of him!" For once he obtained an interview with his uncle, and then he sought Helen,—but at first she was nowhere to be seen! All the afternoon she had been digging dandelion roots out of the gravel, with a kitchen knife, a weary, exasperating performance, and now, with an aching back, she was enjoying well-earned repose under a beech-tree on the lawn. She had scarcely begun to realize the delight of this exquisite August evening, scarcely turned a page of her book, when, to her great disgust, she heard a loud "ahem," and, looking up, beheld Barry—Barry, gazing at her with angry, vindictive eyes! His recent penchant had been speedily replaced by a good, sound, substantial hatred, which he was at no pains to keep out of his countenance. Helen raised her head and looked at him, and beheld defiance in his port, and triumph in his glance. No rebuff, no rejection, could quench the unquenchable.
"So you see you were wrong!" he sneered; "who is the ostrich now—who is the frog, eh? I wonder you are not above calling people names!"