“I don’t care what he is; he is very nice and very good looking.”
“I suppose you admire his singing, too?”
“Yes, he has a sweet voice.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“I do believe you’re jealous of him, Mark. You don’t like it because Jennie didn’t ask you to take the part.”
This was really true, for Mark fancied himself a singer, though his voice was thin and shrill. Had he taken Paul’s part the effect would have been ludicrous, but, of course, he had no idea of this.
It so happened that he knew the three songs which had been sung, and he was very much annoyed to have been passed over in what was the pronounced success of the evening, and to see a mere telegraph boy selected instead of him.
“Jealous of a telegraph boy!” repeated Mark, with a scornful inflection. “I am not sunk quite so low as that.”
About eleven o’clock the party broke up. Being a juvenile party, it was not kept up as late as if it had been attended by older persons. Paul took his leave with the rest, feeling that he had enjoyed himself uncommonly well.
“I must thank you for a pleasant evening, Miss Jennie,” he said, as he said adieu to his youthful hostess.