“I almost think—I believe I could guess why he carried you, if you will not be offended at my assuming the interpreter,” said Lucy, looking at Eve and speaking at David. “You have thin shoes on, Miss Dodd; now I remember the gravel ends at green lane, and the grass begins; so, from what we know of Mr. Dodd, perhaps he carried you that you might not have damp feet.”
“Nothing of the kind—yes, it was, though, by his coloring up. La! David, dear boy!”
“What is a man alongside for but to keep a girl out of mischief?” said David, bruskly.
“Pray convert all your sex to that view,” laughed Lucy.
So now they were going. Then Mr. Fountain thanked David for the pleasant evening he had given them; then David blushed and stammered. He had a veneration for old age—another of his superstitions.
Her uncle's lead gave Lucy an opportunity she instantly seized. “Mr. Dodd, you have taken us into a new world of knowledge; we never were so interested in our lives.” At this pointblank praise David blushed, and was anything but comfortable, and began to back out of it all with a curt bow. Then, as the ladies can advance when a man of merit retreats, Lucy went the length of putting out her hand with a sweet, grateful smile; so he took it, and, in the ardor of encouraging so much spirit and modesty, she unconsciously pressed it. On this delicious pressure, light as it was, he raised his full brown eye, and gave her such a straightforward look of manly admiration and pleasure that she blushed faintly and drew back a little in her turn.
“Well, Davy, dear, how do you like the Fountains?”
“Eve, she is a clipper!”
“And the old gentleman?”
“He was very friendly. What do you think of her?”