“Could not so very clever a person as Miss Dill perceive that I was only jesting?” said he, with a cutting insolence in his tone.
“I assure you that I did not,” said she, calmly; “had I known or even suspected it was a jest, I never should have been angry. That the distinguished Major Stapylton should mock and quiz—or whatever be the name for it—the doctor's daughter, however questionable the good taste, was, after all, only a passing slight. The thought of asking her to marry him was different,—that was an outrage!”
“You shall pay for this one day, perhaps,” said he, biting his lip.
“No, Major Stapylton,” said she, laughing; “this is not a debt of honor; you can afford to ignore it.”
“I tell you again, you shall pay for it.”
“Till then, sir!” said she, with a courtesy; and without giving him time for another word, she turned and re-entered the house.
Scarcely had Stapylton gained the road when he was joined by McCormick. “Faith, you didn't get the best of that brush, anyhow,” said he, with a grin.
“What do you mean, sir?” replied Stapylton, savagely.
“I mean that I heard every word that passed between you, and I would n't have been standing in your shoes for a fifty-pound note.”
“How is your rheumatism this morning?” asked Stapylton, blandly.