"Oh, no, not quite so bad," said Clayton.
"Indeed he is," said Nina. "That man! why, he just puts me in mind of one of these brisk blue-flies, whirring and whisking about, marching over pages of books, and alighting on all sorts of things. When he puts on that grave look, and begins to talk about serious things, he actually looks to me just as a fly does when he stands brushing his wings on a Bible! But, come, let's go down to the good soul."
Down they went, and Nina seemed like a person enfranchised. Never had she seemed more universally gracious. She was chatty and conversable with Carson, and sang over for him all her old opera-songs, with the better grace that she saw that Clayton was listening intently.
As they were sitting and conversing together, the sound of a horse's heels was heard coming up the avenue.
"Who can that be, this time of night?" said Nina, springing to the door, and looking out.
She saw Harry hastening in advance to meet her, and ran down the veranda steps to speak to him.
"Harry, who is coming?"
"Miss Nina, it's Master Tom," said Harry, in a low voice.
"Tom! Oh, mercy!" said Nina, in a voice of apprehension. "What sent him here, now?"
"What sends him anywhere?" said Harry.