“Then keep still till the campaign’s over!” he warned in mock fear.
“And the boys down there,” she continued, “they are such boys! Time doesn’t seem to be an object with them at all. Evidently they have never heard of our uplifting Yankee motto ‘Time is money.’ And such knightly deference! such charming old fashioned chivalrous ways!”
“But, dear, isn’t that a little out of date?”
“How staid and proper and busy Boston seems! I know I am going to be depressed by it.”
“I know what’s the matter with you!” he whistled.
“What?” she slyly asked.
“One of those boys.”
“I confess. Papa, he’s as handsome as a prince.”
“What does he look like?”
“He is tall, dark, with black hair, black eyes, slender, graceful, all fire and energy.”