Lucy hesitated. “I don't think she will like Mr. Dodd, and I am sure he will not like her.”
“How can you know that?”
“He is so honest. He will not understand a woman of the world and her little in—sin—No, I don't mean that.”
“Well, if he does not understand her he may like her.”
“Aunt, he has made me ask the Dodds to tea, and I am afraid you will not like them.”
“Well, if I don't we must try some more natives to-morrow. Who are they?” Lucy told her. “Pretty people to ask to meet me,” said she, loftily. This scorn dissolved in course of the evening. Lucy, anxious her guests should be pleased with one another, drew the Dodds out, especially David—made him spin a yarn. With this and his good looks he so pleased Mrs. Bazalgette that it was the last yarn he ever span during her stay. She took a fancy to him, and set herself to captivate him with sprightly ardor.
David received her advances politely, but a little coldly. The lady was very agreeable, but she kept him from Lucy; he hardly got three words with her all the evening. As they went home together, Eve sneered: “Well, you managed nicely; it was your business to make friends with that lady.”
“With all my heart.”
“Then why didn't you do what she bid you?”
“She gave me no orders that I heard,” said the literal first mate.