“To think,” she said, “that he dare to look me straight in the eye as though he were reading my very thoughts; just as though he were as good as I am! I will make him learn his place, if Scott cannot; or rather, will not.”
In the hall Paul met June, who came bounding along, dressed in the most becoming blue muslin, trimmed with lace, and her golden hair tied with a blue ribbon and falling to her waist in a most bewitching fashion.
“Come, Paul! Scott says you can drive me out in the phaeton, if you will,” she said, approaching him.
Irene entered the doorway just in time to see Paul playfully pinch June’s pink cheek and to hear him say:
“How sweet you look, June!”
“Why, June,” said Irene, “do you ride with your brother’s hired help?”
“I ride with Paul.”
“Does mama allow it?”
“Why, yes; Scott says I can do so.”