“But, Wilfred,” went on downright Mysie, “is it only mischief, or do you want to marry her yourself?”
“Draw your own conclusions,” responded Wilfred, mounting his machine, and spinning down the hill faster than they could follow on foot.
“What is to be done, Gill?” sighed Mysie. “Ought we to get mamma to speak to him?”
“Better not,” said Gillian, with more experience. “It would only make it worse to take it seriously. Half of it is play—and half to tease you.”
“And,” said Mysie, with due deference to the engaged sister, “how about Mr. Delrio? Will it make him unhappy?”
“If he finds out in time what a horrid little thing it is, I should say it would be very well for him; but I don’t want Will to be the means.”
“Oh! when his examination is over, and he gets an appointment, he will go away, and it will be safe.”
“I have not much hopes of his getting in!”
“Oh, Gill, none of us ever failed before.”
On the side of the Goyle not much was known or cared about Wilfred’s little attentions, which were generally out of sight of Magdalen, and did not amount to much; but Paula saw enough of them to consult Agatha on, and to observe that Flapsy was going on just as she used to at Filsted, and she thought Hubert would not like it.