"What sign will you make, Bert?" asked her father, amused, and yet alive to the necessity of securing his daughter's acquiescence in his choice.
"I don't know," said Bert, reflecting; "suppose I wink."
"And suppose the lady should see you winking at me? What do you suppose she would think?"
"Oh, I could tell her afterwards, you know, and she would feel flattered, knowing it was a sign that I liked her."
"She might not think it very lady-like in you."
"What's the use of being lady-like? I don't want to be. There's Florence Gates; I suppose she's lady-like. I'll show you how she walks."
Bert imitated the gait of the young lady, swaying herself from side to side, as she walked with mincing step, tossing her head, and exhibiting a caricature of the airs and affectations which girls sometimes delight to display.
"Why, she wouldn't run for a thousand dollars," exclaimed Bert. "She would think it beneath her dignity. If she is lady-like, I don't want to be. But, hark! there goes the bell. She's coming. Now, papa, just remember, I shall wink if I like her, and if I don't I'll make up a face."
Bert transferred herself to an ottoman, and took Topsy into her lap.
Both she and her father looked towards the door with curiosity.