A few hours later they were at the Academy, occupying balcony seats. Marian was glancing over the house, between the acts, with her glass, when she suddenly arrested its motion, and fixed it on a lonely occupant of an expensive box. After a moment she handed the lorgnette to her father, and directed him whither to look. He smiled and said, "He appears rather pensive and preoccupied, doesn't he?"
"I don't fancy pensive, preoccupied men in these times. Why didn't he fill his box, instead of selfishly keeping it all to himself?"
"Perhaps he could not secure the company he wished."
"Who is it?" Mrs. Vosburgh asked.
She was told, and gave Merwyn a longer scrutiny than the others.
"Shall I go and give him your compliments and the message you spoke of at dinner?" resumed Mr. Vosburgh, in a low tone.
"Was it Mr. Merwyn that called so late?" she asked, with a sudden intelligence in her eyes.
Her father nodded, while the suggestion of a smile hovered about his mouth.
"Just think of it, Marian!" said Mrs. Vosburgh. "We all might now be in that box if you had been like other girls."
"I am well content where I am."