“Thanks ever so much,” supplemented Rose. “Wouldn’t you like to sit nearer the fire too?” she added, addressing the youth. “There’s plenty of room.”
“Room and to spare at the board,” announced this personage, with a flourish of the hand, “so, ladies, I will accept your kind, nay, your princely offer. Let us sit together, and let us drink confusion—in this tea—confusion to dire destiny.”
“What’s that?” said Ruth.
“The providence that shapes our ends, roughhew them how we will!” And carrying his cup, plate and pot of tea, the young man made the transfer to the circle by the fire. “Your health, young ladies, though this is not the ruby,” he finished, lifting his cup high before setting it to his lips.
The girls, including Nell, giggled.
“You’re funny,” said Rose. “What’s your name?”
“Richard Swiveller, at your service. And yours, fair ones?”
They introduced each other gravely. And then began to make away with the delicious provender before them.
“We have met,” said Dick, buttering a muffin, “we have encountered each other in this singular spot for a reason—but what that reason may be, that indeed ’twere difficult to say. Unless you know?”
“We’ve come to give Nell a good time,” declared Ruth, who felt a strong liking for the dauntless Richard. “You see, she is so good and so helpful and so busy that she has no time to play, and we want to play—after we’ve eaten.” And she bit into her bun.