“Mysie is in the garden,” he said; “do come and find her.”
“Oh, Arthur, I am so glad,” cried Flossy, impulsively, as she walked away with him. “I am so glad that Mrs Crichton—”
“Aunt Lily? I prepared several irresistible arguments, and felt as if—well, as if I might have kept them for Hugh. How kind she is! But, now, Flossy, you are unprejudiced; don’t you think I shall make Mysie as happy as that swell in the air who is supposed to loom in the future?”
“Now, how angry you would be if I did not say yes! How can you expect me to sacrifice your friendship to a disinterested regard for truth?”
“I want somebody to convince! I feel as if I had been reading hard and the examiners had asked me to decline ‘Dominus.’”
“Oh, Arthur, anyone may see where you have been lately. How ungrateful you are!”
“No, I am not, Flossy,” said Arthur; “but I really feel as if I ought to object to myself as a duty to the family.”
“Do wait for your cousin,” said Flossy; “he will do that duty for you, no doubt. No, I am very glad.”
“Thank you—thank you,” said Arthur, pleased at the hearty sympathy in her voice. “Ah, there’s Mysie, picking roses.”
“Now, Arthur, do stay away for five minutes. How can we talk with you there to listen?”