"There, there," said Amy, throwing oil on the waters, "our acquaintance with the Airtons has certainly added to the pleasure of us all. Balfour seems a plucky fellow, for it can't be particularly pleasant to him to serve as a grocer's clerk in the summer holidays."
"But he needs the money."
"Oh, yes, Martine; but I know boys who would remain idle rather than do work that they thought a little beneath them."
"To tell you the truth," added Priscilla, "I'm afraid that the Airtons have very little money indeed. Eunice says that there's a mortgage on their house, and that they may have to give it up before long. Balfour has offered to stay out of college and look for work in Halifax, but his mother will not listen to this; she wishes him to be a lawyer like his grandfather."
"He has a scholarship at college, and he earns more or less money all the year, so that really his education costs his family nothing."
"I fear our conversation is too personal," interrupted Amy, "though it has certainly been a pleasure to meet two people so free from self-consciousness as Eunice and Balfour. That reminds me," concluded Amy, "that I had a letter to-day from my friend Brenda, Mrs. Weston. She is surprised that we find so much to interest us in Nova Scotia. She made a trip this way one summer with her parents, but they travelled rather hurriedly through the province and made their longest stay at Halifax."
"Oh, Halifax," interrupted Martine. "Nothing but English; only fancy," with a true English accent, and she raised her hand toward her eye as if holding a monocle. "If there's anything in the world I dislike, it's the real English. Excuse me, Priscilla; I did not mean to hurt your feelings."
"My feelings? Why, I'm no more English than you are, Martine. You won't deny that you have some English blood in your veins?"
"Unluckily, I can't deny it; but I'm glad that they named me Martine; that at least is un-English."
"It certainly is a queer name."