“And why do you like Kingsworth better than Applehurst?” said Major Clare, as they came—rather quickly—to a pause in the waltz. Kate’s waltzing was not first-rate.
“Oh—because of friends,” said Kate. “I was always by myself at Applehurst. Now I have Emberance, and even when she goes home, I shall have Rose and Minnie. And I don’t like seclusion; society is much pleasanter.”
“Are Rose and Minnie the only new friends who make Kingsworth pleasant to you?” said the Major, in rather a sentimental tone and with some curiosity to see how she would avail herself of this opening. She said “No,” quite simply and plainly, but her eyes drooped and she blushed vividly.
“I am glad of that,” said Major Clare. “I want to be among the new friends that make Kingsworth pleasant to you. Because, you see, having friends at the great house has made my stay here quite a different thing for me. I used to think Kingsworth such a dull place, but now I have our walks, and games, and expeditions, they don’t fail in interest. Do you remember that day, etc, etc,” till all sorts of new feelings, new ideas, and new possibilities were throbbing in Katharine’s heart, and changing the child into a woman.
Emberance meanwhile had had a very successful evening and had thoroughly enjoyed both the dancing and the success. For Emberance knew what a girl’s laurels are, and when they fell to her own share, she liked to crown her brows with them, even while she honestly called Malcolm Mackenzie to mind and hoped to herself that he was happy too.
But she was not nearly so much excited or so full of the ball afterwards as Kate, having indeed seen a few others, and Mrs Kingsworth sighed to think that her girl should be so much more frivolous than was common.
A little more tact and observation would have shown her that something which was not frivolous was beginning to mingle in the pleasant trifling intercourse of daily life. She had not herself seen very much of Major Clare, and hearing him spoken of as the Vicar’s brother, had never realised how completely he was the companion of his nieces and their friends. She had lived so secluded a life and was of so unpractical a nature herself, that while she anxiously speculated whether Kate was not too fond of dancing and of dress, she never guessed that the dress was beginning to be worn and the dance to be valued for something more than itself.
No one could accuse Kate of contempt for simple pleasures, and she was quite as eager about an expedition for gathering blackberries, a day or two afterwards, as she had been about going to the ball itself.
“If you will only let us come and help you to make the jam, Minnie,” she said, “I think that would be the greatest fun of all.”
“I am afraid we are not domestic enough to make it ourselves,” said Minnie.