"Master Sidney, indeed!" was the disparaging comment.
"When you know him, you won't talk like that," said Mattie; "he's a gentleman—growing like one fast—and I don't think, young as he is, that he would have acted like that other one you've been silly enough to think about."
"Silly!—oh! Mattie, Mattie, that isn't sympathy with me—I don't know whether you're a child, or an old woman—you talk like both of them, and in one breath. Why did I tell you!—why did I tell you!"
"Because I was in earnest, and begged hard—because I was afraid, and you could not keep such a secret from me as that; and if you had wanted help—how I would have stood by you!"
Harriet noted the kindling eyes, and her heart warmed to the nondescript.
"Thank you, Mattie—one friend at least now."
"Always,—don't you think so?"
"Yes, I do."
Mattie was at the door, when Harriet called her back.
"Mattie, never a word about this again. I daresay I shall soon forget it, for I am very young; and though it was love, yet I won't let it break my heart. I'm very wretched now. I shall be glad," she added with a yawn, "to lie down and think of all my sorrows."