“I am sewing a button on Arthur’s glove,” returned Mysie, who was sitting by herself on a low chair in the window with a smart little work-basket by her side. “Do you know, Floss, Hugh is coming back to-night? Aunt Lily had a line from him from Paris.”
“Dear me! And do you want to get the button sewn on before he comes?”
Mysie shook her head, smiling, while Flossy went on: “Seriously, Mysie, aren’t you in a great fright?”
“No!” answered Mysie, “I cannot see why I should be in a fright. You know, Flossy, I have never been at all afraid of Hugh. I know he always does what he thinks right. And he knows what is right, too.”
“Well, but suppose he says you are too young?”
“But I shall explain to him,” said Mysie, “that I am not young. Now, don’t laugh, Flossy; but I can’t help feeling that when people are so very sure of themselves as I am they must be able to make others believe in them.”
“That’s a profound remark,” said Flossy.
“I’m not at all changeable,” said Mysie, “and I know I shall be able to make Hugh understand that I am quite in earnest.” There was a peculiar intensity in her quiet voice; and as she lifted up her eyes, clear and serene, Flossy felt that they would have convinced her of anything.
“It will be very unromantic if you don’t get anything to try your constancy,” said Flossy, teasingly.
“Well, one can be very happy without romance,” said Mysie, laughing. “Romance generally means something rather uncomfortable.”