‘What is the reason of this whim?’ said Eveleen.
‘No, Eveleen, it is not whim,’ said Laura; ‘it is because he thinks dissipation makes him idle.’
‘Then if he is idle I wonder what the rest of the world is!’ said Eveleen. ‘I am sure we all ought to stay at home too.’
‘I think so,’ said Amy. ‘I know I shall feel all night as if I was wrong to be there.’
‘I am angry,’ said Mrs. Edmonstone; ‘and yet I believe it is a great sacrifice.’
‘Yes, mamma; after all our looking forward to it,’ said Amy. ‘Oh! yes,’ and her voice lost its piteous tone, ‘it is a real sacrifice.’
‘If he was not a mere boy, I should say a lover’s quarrel was at the bottom of it,’ said Eveleen. ‘Depend upon it, Laura, it is all your fault. You only danced once with him at our ball, and all this week you have played for us, as if it was on purpose to cut him.’
Laura was glad of the darkness, and her mother, who had a particular dislike to jokes of this sort, went on,—‘If it were only ourselves I should not care, but there are so many who will fancy it caprice, or worse.’
‘The only comfort is,’ said Amy, ‘that it is Charlie’s gain.’
‘I hope they will not talk,’ said Mrs. Edmonstone. ‘But Charlie will never hold his tongue. He will grow excited, and not sleep all night.’