"Keefer Stuyvesant Twombly," he answered. "Rotten name. Imagine being hailed as 'Keefer'! It sounds like some one's butler. It isn't a nice name, is it, Evangeline Cecilia?"
"No," said Cecilia. "But then, you are nice. Names and things are just trimmings. You are nice," she repeated.
"So are you," returned the boy, "and I'll bet you're Irish!"
"How did you know?" asked Cecilia, wide-eyed. "How did you know?"
"And there she sat," said the green-eyed, "laughing with him in the most brazen way, and he bought her two sodas!"
"How vulgar," said Annette. "Was he good looking?"
"Ravishing, my dear. Alice thought that he looked like your cousin."
"That, of course, is impossible," said Annette coldly. "He does happen to be here. He and his mother are at the Touraine. But as for his looking at any one like that Madden girl—! How she got in here, I can't imagine. I think that it is an imposition to be asked to meet her."
Annette surveyed her hair, and picked up a mirror. "Did you tell Mrs. De Pui?" she asked.
"Yes," answered the green-eyed; "I thought that it was my duty. It hurt me to do it, but I thought I ought to. We watched them for the longest time. We pretended to be looking at a window full of hot water bottles."