“I cannot recollect, but I am sure it was not Madeline. She was not that sort of girl; and I may have read it in a book. I get so mixed between what I have heard and what I have read about; but I am awfully absent and dreamy.”
“Have you kept up a correspondence with any of your school-fellows?”
“Oh no! I hate letter-writing; and I detested school. But I always liked Maddie West. She was so pretty to look at, so pleasant to talk to, so good-natured. And she is not a bit changed. She is a dear.”
“There never was any—you never heard of her getting into any scrape at school, did you?”
“Oh no; what a funny idea—a scrape! Why, Maddie was as strict about the rules as the Harpies themselves!”
“And this gentleman that admired her?”
“Oh, it was only at our dances, the breakings-up; he never gave her a second thought.”
So Mrs. Leech had wasted her blandishments, her time, and her money all for nothing on this half-witted, tow-headed girl. When she realized the fact, she rose rather abruptly—looking surprisingly sour, paid at the comptoir, and led the way back to the promenade in somewhat gloomy silence.
The Berwicks went on to Pau a few days later, and were lost sight of once more, as is the usual way with these wandering birds of passage.