"Taste."
"Yes."
And Verty gazed after Redbud.
Fanny burst out laughing; but then remembering her promise to Redbud, to treat Verty well, and amuse him, checked this exhibition of satirical feeling, and said:
"Your taste, Mr. Verty, is such that I ought to quarrel with it—but I'm not going to;—no, not for fifty thousand worlds! If I have any quarreling to do, it will be with some one else!"
"With whom?"
"That coxcomb cousin of mine, Ralph Ashley."
Verty's countenance became clouded; it was the second time his rival's name had been uttered that morning.
"He is a fop," said Fanny—"a pure, unadulterated, presumptuous and intolerable fop. As I live, there he is coming up the road! Oh, won't we have fine times—he promised to show me his college album!"
And the impulsive Fanny clapped her hands, and more loudly than ever.
Five minutes afterward Mr. Ralph Ashley dismounted at the door of the
Bower of Nature.