"Not at all. We were all scolded that day for not coming down to tea when called. I can remember my tutor sitting at his easel, and you standing behind him, holding the candle, and watching him draw the snowy cliff, the pine, the deer couched under it, and the half-moon hung above."
"Where are his drawings, Harry? Caroline should see them."
"In his portfolio. But it is padlocked; he has the key."
"Ask him for it when he comes in."
"You should ask him, Shirley. You are shy of him now. You are grown a proud lady to him; I notice that."
"Shirley, you are a real enigma," whispered Caroline in her ear. "What queer discoveries I make day by day now!—I who thought I had your confidence. Inexplicable creature! even this boy reproves you."
"I have forgotten 'auld lang syne,' you see, Harry," said Miss Keeldar, answering young Sympson, and not heeding Caroline.
"Which you never should have done. You don't deserve to be a man's morning star if you have so short a memory."
"A man's morning star, indeed! and by 'a man' is meant your worshipful self, I suppose? Come, drink your new milk while it is warm."
The young cripple rose and limped towards the fire; he had left his crutch near the mantelpiece.