“Yes, aunt,” said the girl, naïvely; “I was thinking so as I saw him go across the lawn.”
Which was the simple truth, though, all the same, Miss Polly had been comparing him, somewhat to his disadvantage, with Humphrey.
“Good girl,” said Mrs Lloyd. “You must get yourself a silk dress, child—a nice light one.”
“Thank you, aunt,” said the girl, flushing with pleasure.
“Yes, he’s a fine young fellow, and as good and noble as he is high.”
“I’m sure he must be, aunt,” said the girl. “He spoke so nicely to me.”
“When?—where?” said Mrs Lloyd, eagerly.
“Yesterday, aunt, when I took in that silver cup.”
“Ah?” said Mrs Lloyd. “Yes, she’ll be a lucky girl who wins him.”
“Yes, that she will, aunt,” said the girl, enthusiastically. “He’s very rich, isn’t he?”