"What is that?"
Walter explained that it was a small hostelry, but one that was occasionally honored by distinguished visitors. Miss Bartley staid there three days.
"I h—hope to st—ay more than that," said little Percy, with an amorous glance at Julia.
Miss Clifford took Mary to her room, and soon asked her what she thought of him; then, anticipating criticism, she said there was not much of him, but he was such a duck.
"He dresses beautifully," was Mary's guarded remark.
However, when Walter rode home with her, being now relieved of his attendance on Julia, she was more communicative. Said she: "I never knew before that a man could look like fresh cambric. Dear me! his head and his face and his little whiskers, his white scarf, his white waistcoat, and all his clothes, and himself, seem just washed and ironed and starched. I looked round for the bandbox."
"Never mind," said Walter. "He is a great addition. My duties devolve on him. And I shall be free to—How her eyes shone and her voice mellowed when she spoke to him! Confess, now, love is a beautiful thing."
"I can not say. Not experienced in beautiful things." And Mary looked mighty demure.
"Of course not. What am I thinking of? You are only a child."
"A little more than that, please."