It was at this point that Miss Selby’s disillusionment began. She looked at Mr. Anderson, expecting to find him looking amused, and instead of that, he was pleased—a little embarrassed, but certainly pleased!
Then the charming little lady spoke again, addressing Miss Selby:
“What darling wild roses!” she exclaimed. “I do wish I could find some!”
“They’re azaleas,” said Miss Selby. “And the woods at the foot of the hill—next to your garden—are full of them.”
Mr. Anderson was not looking at them just then, but only heard their voices, and he was very much impressed by the contrast. One of them sounded so gentle and sweet, and the other so chill, so curt. It was deplorable that Miss Selby should be so ungracious; he was disappointed.
So he thought that he, at least, would be decently civil to the poor little woman, and he turned toward her with that intention, only he could think of nothing to say. He smiled, though, and Mrs. Granger smiled at him, and Miss Selby observed this.
And Mrs. Granger knew that Miss Selby observed this, and she smiled at Miss Selby. It was a smile that Mr. Anderson would never understand.
“I wish you’d both come in and look at my garden!” said Mrs. Granger, wistfully.
“We—” began Mr. Anderson, cheerfully, but Miss Selby interrupted.
“Thank you!” she said. “But I must go home now. Good morning.”