“Oh! I mean that I don’t wonder such a handsome, bright, graceful; accomplished young man, who lives in fine style, drives pretty horses, and knows every body, should be a great favorite with the girls and their mothers. Don’t you see, Abel Newt is a sort of Alcibiades?”
Lawrence Newt laughed.
“You don’t mean Pelham?” said he.
“No, for he has sense enough to conceal the coxcomb. But you ought to know your own nephew, Mr. Newt,” answered Amy.
“Perhaps; but I have a very slight acquaintance with him,” said Mr. Newt.
“I don’t exactly like him,” said Arthur Merlin, with perfect candor.
“I didn’t know you knew him,” replied Amy, looking up.
Arthur blushed, for he did not personally know him; but he felt as if he did, so that he unwittingly spoke so.
“No, no,” said he, hastily; “I don’t know him, I believe; but I know about him.”
As he said this he looked at Hope Wayne, who had been sitting, working, in perfect silence. At the same moment she raised her eyes to his inquiringly.