“He did, I know he did! Hattie always said it would be a match—from the very first, when he came here to your house.”
“Flora!” gasped Miss Maggie again, looking about her very much as if she were meditating flight.
“Well, she did—but I didn’t believe it. Now I know. You refused him—now, didn’t you?”
“Certainly not!” Miss Maggie caught her breath a little convulsively.
“Honest?”
“Flora! Stop this silly talk right now. I have answered you once. I shan’t again.”
“Hm-m.” Miss Flora fell back in her chair. “Well, I suppose you didn’t, then, if you say so. And I don’t need to ask if you accepted him. You didn’t, of course, or you’d have been there to see him off. And he wouldn’t have gone then, anyway, probably. So he didn’t ask you, I suppose. Well, I never did believe, like Hattie did, that—”
“Flora,” interrupted Miss Maggie desperately, “Will you stop talking in that absurd way? Listen, I did not care to go to the station to-day. I am very busy. I am going away next week. I am going—to Chicago.”
“To chicago—you!” Miss Flora came erect in her chair.
“Yes, for a visit. I’m going to see my old classmate, Nellie Maynard—Mrs. Tyndall.”