“Happy? Of course you are; that seems to be your nature. I never saw a girl so sweet, and happy, and contented.”
“Indeed!” said Grey, blushing. “How can I help being happy when everyone is so kind?”
“Kind? Why, of course. Why, let me see,” said the Resident, “how time goes; what a number of years it seems since I took you to England and played papa to you?”
“Yes, it does seem a long time ago,” said Grey, musingly.
“I never thought that the little girl I petted would ever grow into such a beautiful young lady. Perhaps that is why papa Stuart did not ask me to bring you back.”
“Mr Harley!” exclaimed Grey, and a look of pain crossed her face.
“Why, what have I done?” he said.
“Hurt me,” she said, simply. “I like so to talk to you that it troubles me when you adopt that complimentary style.”
“Then I won’t do it again,” he said, earnestly. “We won’t spoil our old friendship with folly.”
“How well you remember, Mr Harley,” said the girl, smiling again.