"That's so. The one you like so well down at Currie's."
They proceeded. He had followed about, carrying the ink pot into which she frequently dipped the big quill pen. She overlooked nothing in the scantily furnished house. She even went so far as to timidly suggest that certain articles of furniture might well be replaced by more attractive ones, and he had promptly agreed. At last she announced that she must go home.
"If you buy all the things we have put down here, Kenny, you will have the loveliest house in Lafayette. My, how I shall envy you!"
"I have a feeling I shall be very lonely—amidst all this splendour," he said.
"Oh, no, you won't. I shall run in to see you every whipstitch. You will get awfully sick of having me around."
"I am thinking of the time when you are married, Viola, and,—and have gone away from Lafayette."
"Well," she began, her brow clouding, "you seem to have got along without me for a good many years,—so I guess you won't miss me as much as you think. Besides, we are supposed to be enemies, aren't we?"
"It doesn't look much like it now, does it?"
"No," she said dubiously, "but I—I must not do anything that will make mother feel unhappy or—"
He broke in a little harshly. "Are you forgetting how unhappy it will make her if you marry Barry Lapelle?"