‘Somewhere in the midst. They are all absurd together.’
‘What is the matter, Redgie?’ asked Phyllis, unable to account for this extraordinary fit of misanthropy.
‘Papa and William both driving me about like a dog,’ said Reginald; ‘first I danced with Miss Weston—then she saw that woman—that Miss Aylmer—shook hands—talked—and then nothing would serve her but to find papa. As soon as the Baron sees me he cries out, “Why are not you dancing, Redgie? We do not want you!” Up and down they walk, ever so long, and presently papa turns off, and begins talking to Miss Aylmer. Then, of course, I went back to Miss Weston, but then up comes William, as savage as one of his Canadian bears; he orders me off too, and so here I am! I am sure I am not going to ask any one else to dance. Come and walk with me in peace, Phyl. Do you see them?—Miss Weston and Marianne under that tulip-tree, and the Captain helping them to ice.’
‘Redgie, did you give Miss Weston her nosegay? Some one put such beautiful flowers in it, such as I never saw before.’
‘How could I? They sent me off with Lily and Jane. I told William I had the flowers in charge, and he said he would take care of them. By the bye, Phyl,’ and Reginald gave a wondrous spring, ‘I have it! I have it! I have it! If he is not in love with Miss Weston you may call me an ass for the rest of my life.’
‘I should not like to call you an ass, Redgie,’ said Phyllis.
‘Very likely; but do not make me call you one. Hurrah! Now ask Marianne if it is not so. Marianne must know. How jolly! I say, Phyl, stay there, and I will fetch Marianne.’
Away ran Reginald, and presently returned with Marianne, who was very glad to be invited to join Phyllis. She little knew what an examination awaited her.
‘Marianne,’ began Phyllis, ‘I’ll tell you what—’
‘No, I will do it right,’ said Reginald; ‘you know nothing about it, Phyl. Marianne, is not something going on there?’