“So this was how you got to know Mr. Temple?” said Ralph Webster, after listening to Miss Margaret’s long explanation. “He’s a barrister, you say, but does not practice? I must look up his name.”
“He never practiced; he was well off, but not rich, and then some months ago he came into a great windfall. A little boy, the heir of the head of the family, Mr. Temple of Woodlea Hall, was accidentally killed at football, and Mr. John Temple became the heir of the property, and when he called the last time he was in town he told us that some day, if he lived, he would be a very rich man; but his good fortune did not seem to elate him, did it, Eliza?”
“No, indeed,” replied Aunt Eliza, “Mr. Temple is quite above anything of that kind.”
“I wonder where he picked up the country cousin?” said Ralph Webster, thoughtfully.
“Most probably at his uncle’s, the squire of Woodlea. Where do you think we could take her to-morrow, Ralph?”
“Wait until we see what to-morrow brings forth in the way of weather,” answered Ralph Webster, and they settled it thus, and shortly afterward the two sisters retired to rest, and their nephew was left to his reflections.
The next morning was fine, and when Ralph Webster saw May Churchill by daylight he decided she was prettier than ever. She had rested well; she was fresh and fair, and she carried on an animated conversation with Ralph Webster during the whole of the breakfast time.
“I suppose you row, play tennis, and hunt, and have all sorts of country occupations?” asked Ralph.
“I play tennis, but I neither row nor hunt,” answered May, smiling.
“What! you are not one of those manly young ladies who intend to annihilate us poor male creatures off the face of the earth, or at least our occupations and professions?”