And the good man never suspected that in reality it had never been as little cold for him in all his years of courtship as on the evening when that postal card was bought; and that in place of the curt message might truly have run a bit from Rosalie Vincent’s repertoire:—
Never the time and the place,
And the loved one, all together.
The next morning dawned bright. If Rosalie was in the breakfast-room, Betsy did not see her.
When later she entered the back seat of the last stage, Betsy looked about anxiously. Irving came to the step.
“Mrs. Bruce and Nixie are up there with the driver. I’m coming in with you,” he said.
“Just wait one minute, Mr. Irving,” returned Betsy. “If—if that young—waitress is going along with us, she’d feel—sort of embarrassed if—”
“Well—well,”—Irving looked up into the narrow face and laughed,—“this is the first time you ever turned me down.”
He looked about. Mrs. Nixon, Miss Maynard, and Mr. Derwent were in the middle seat as before. The stout gentleman and another man were in the seat in front of them.