“Why didn’t you run down, and pick it up yourself?” asked the young lady.
“I thought maybe mamma wouldn’t want me to,” said Bessie, putting on her doll’s hat. “She told me on the Savannah steamer never to go up and down the stairs alone; and I didn’t know if she would like me to here.”
“Here’s a match for Kate’s paragon of obedience and straightforwardness,” said the young lady, laughing as she turned to the other gentleman who had not yet spoken.
“What is your name, little lady?” he asked.
Bessie looked up at him. Where had she seen that face before? Those sparkling black eyes, the roguish curve of the lips, seemed very familiar to her; and yet she was sure the gentleman was a stranger, as the others were.
But she had a fancy that these same strangers were making rather free with her; and she put on her dignified air again as she answered slowly,—
“Bessie Bradford, sir,” and turned away. But her steps were again checked as she heard her last questioner exclaim,—
“Why, it is Kate’s pet! The paragon herself!”
“Kate’s pet!” The old school-name so often given to her by the older girls at Miss Ashton’s, and now uttered by the owner of the black eyes which seemed so familiar, made it at once clear to her who it was. Perhaps it was just as well that she did not know what paragon meant: she only thought it rather an ugly-sounding name, and at another time she might have been displeased and thought it was intended to tease her; but, as it flashed upon her who he was, vexation was lost in pleased surprise.