"Why?"
"Oh, no matter; go on. Tell me more. What evil names have I called her?"
"The worst of all. You have called her an old maid—there!"
"Good heavens! what an atrocity! Surely—surely you malign me."
"No, I don't; I heard you. And it was to me, too, you said it."
"What! I called you an old maid!"
"Pouf! No!" laughing gaily. "That's out of your power."
"It is indeed," says Hescott slowly.
He is looking at her, the little, pretty, sweet, lovely thing! If she were a maid to-day, some chance—some small chance—might have been his.
"Well, I'll tell you about it," says she. She looks round her cautiously, in the funniest little way, as if expecting enemies in the bushes near her. Then she hesitates. "After all, I won't," says she, with the most delightful inconsistency. "It wouldn't be a secret if I did."