"And my little girl trotted behind?"
"Oh, yes. You know I was almost at home, and besides—of course—" Molly went very red, and left the sentence unfinished.
"Do you think she's worthy of him?" asked her father, just as if she had completed her speech.
"Of Roger, papa? oh, who is? But she is very sweet, and very, very charming."
"Very charming if you will, but somehow I don't quite understand her. Why does she want all this secrecy? Why was she not more eager to go and pay her duty to Roger's father? She took it as coolly as if I'd asked her to go to church!"
"I don't think she did take it coolly; I believe I don't quite understand her either, but I love her dearly all the same."
"Umph; I like to understand people thoroughly, but I know it's not necessary to women. D'ye really think she's worthy of him?"
"Oh, papa—" said Molly, and then she stopped; she wanted to speak in favour of Cynthia, but somehow she could form no reply that pleased her to this repeated inquiry. He did not seem much to care whether he got an answer or not, for he went on with his own thoughts, and the result was that he asked Molly if Cynthia had heard from Roger.
"Yes; on Wednesday morning."
"Did she show it to you? But of course not. Besides, I read the Squire's letter, which told all about him."