“But, Meta,” said Norman, “have you heard nothing of—of the elders?”
“Oh, yes,” said Meta, smiling, “have not you?”
“I have seen no one.”
“I have!” said Meta merrily. “Uncle Cosham is delighted. That speech of yours has captivated him. He calls me a wise little woman to have found out your first-rate abilities. There’s for you, sir.”
“I don’t understand it! Surely he must be aware of my intentions?”
“He said nothing about them; but, of course, Dr. May must have mentioned them.”
“I should have thought so, but I cannot suppose—”
“That he would be willing to let me go,” said Meta. “But then you know he cannot help it,” added she, with a roguish look, at finding herself making one of her saucy independent speeches.
“I believe you are taking a would-be missionary instead of Norman May!” he answered, with a sort of teasing sweetness.
“All would-be missionaries did not make dear papa so fond of them,” said Meta, very low; “and you would not be Norman May without such purposes.”