The two girls saw, understood, and rejoiced. They had firmly believed that never, under any conceivable circumstances, could any male being even think of holding Miss Scott’s hand; but the impossibility was an accomplished fact before their eyes, and as they could not have any reason for supposing that the two had ever met before, they both instantly concluded that it was a case of love at first sight. Then they looked at each other and they also laughed long and heartily, though not a sound disturbed the air. When the fit was over, they whispered together.
“I think it’s going to be all right,” said Evelyn, keeping her eye on the couple.
“I’m jolly glad,” whispered Gwendolen. “I thought we were in for it this time.”
“The last ten days have been awful,” said Evelyn, “haven’t they?”
“She’s a perfect demon,” replied the other. “I wish I knew some nice bad words for her, that it wouldn’t be wrong or low-down form to say!”
“I’ve seen things in Shakespeare,” said Evelyn thoughtfully, “but I’m not quite sure what they mean.”
“You can think them anyway,” suggested Gwendolen—“that’s better than nothing; and you’ll show them to me when we get home, and I can think them too. There can’t be anything wrong about that, can there?”
“I don’t think so,” answered Evelyn; “and we’ll never ask anybody, so we can always think that the words are all right.”
“Do you suppose he’ll kiss her?” asked Gwendolen.
“Not to-day,” answered Evelyn, with the superior wisdom of an elder sister. “They never do the first day; and besides, he’s sitting on the side that has the blotch.”