“Yes,” said her aunt promptly; “I’m sure we ought to thank Mr. Davidson for them. He was such a good provider.”
“Except in waistcoats,” I protested, casually indicating his latest contribution to my wardrobe. “Quantity, yes, I grant that, but as to quality, never! But why speak ill of the absent, especially regarding matters of an earlier and bygone day? Yon varlet no longer exists for us—we no longer exist for him. We have passed, as two ships pass yonder in the channel. I know not what he may be doing now, unless carrying roses to Miss Sally Byington. Certainly he can not know that I, his hated rival, am safe from all pursuit behind the Timbalier Shoals, and carrying oranges to a young lady in my belief almost as beautiful as the beautiful Sally.”
Aunt Lucinda turned upon me a baleful eye. “You grow flippant as well as rude, sir! As though you knew anything of that Byington girl. I doubt if you ever saw her.”
“Oh, yes—last night. Miss Emory and I both saw her, last night, at Luigi’s. As for yon varlet’s providing, while I would not too much criticize a man whose waistcoats I wear even under protest, it is but fair to say that these oranges and all the fresh things taken on at New Orleans, are of my providing, and not his. He was so busy providing other things for Miss Sally Byington.”
“I don’t think she is so beautiful,” said Helena, ceasing with her orange. “Her color is so full. Very likely she’ll be blowsy in a few years.”
“How can you say so!” I rebuked, with much virtuous indignation. But at the time I felt my heart leap at sight of Helena herself, the lines of her slim graceful figure defined even under the rug she had drawn about her neck, the wind-blown little neck curls and the long fuller lock now plain against her fresh face, blown pale by the cool salt air that sang above us gently. I could no longer even feign an interest in any other woman in the world. So very unconsciously I chuckled to myself, and Helena heard me.
“You don’t think so yourself!” she remarked.
“Think what?”
“That she is so beautiful.”
“No, I do not. Not as beautiful as——”