“Thank you, sir,” said Fin, with a mock curtsey.
“Is she always as merry as this?” said Trevor to Tiny, who glanced at him again, to once more lower her eyes in confusion, he looked at her so earnestly.
“Yes; but you must not heed what she says,” was the reply.
“I’m very wicked in my remarks, Mr Trevor,” said Fin; “and now, sir, if you please, we are going this way to dig up ferns—so good morning.”
“That is my direction,” said Trevor, quietly; “and as I am only your neighbour, surely you need not treat me as a stranger.”
“Tiny, it’s all your fault,” said Fin, maliciously; “so if Aunt Matty scolds, you may take the blame. I would make him carry the basket, though.”
“Yes, pray let me,” said Trevor, holding out his hand.
“Thank you, no,” said Tiny, recovering herself, and speaking with a very sweet assumption of maidenly dignity. “If Mr Trevor will excuse us, I think we will return now to breakfast. I feel sure that papa will gladly receive you this afternoon.”
“And you will be at home?” said Trevor, earnestly.
“I cannot say,” said Tiny, quietly; “but I hope the little unpleasantly will be removed.”