“Why, what is the matter?”
“She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She has not a word to say to a fellow.”
“Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young lady now.”
“Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the bright little darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid, dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma.”
“Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, don't take too much notice of her, and then you will find she will not be nearly so shy.”
“Too much notice! I shall never speak to her again—perhaps.”
“I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why not treat her like any other acquaintance?”
Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone.
In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a second time. Horror! she was all monosyllables and blushes again.
Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reached Highmore gate, he lost his patience, and said, “I see how it is. I have lost my sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble you any more.” And he held out his hand to the young lady for a final farewell.