“Do you, now? I wonder why?”
“Why,” said Susie, “because I think he is nice. He is very poor, of course, but he makes the best of his poverty, and he is very intelligent and fond of reading.”
“Perhaps you like Michael too,” said Mrs Fortescue.
“I am exceedingly fond of Michael,” said Susie. “He is a dear boy.”
“A boy?” said Mrs Fortescue. “Do you call him that? He is a man; he is twenty-four.”
“I call twenty-four quite a boy,” answered Susie. “Mike is a great friend of mine: we have always been chums, and always will be, for that matter.”
Mrs Fortescue sat quite still. She longed to add something further; but Susie sat smiling to herself, for she remembered Michael’s request that he might take Florence into dinner on Christmas night, and she also remembered the fact that he had walked through the snow and slush in order to secure his heart’s desire. It would in Susie’s eyes be a delightful match if Mike and Florence married. But she was not going to speak of it. Mrs Fortescue’s small black eyes sparkled.
“Well, well,” she said; “we all have our tastes. I will own that in a place like Langdale one is apt to appreciate any fairly good-looking young man. But out in the great world where one meets them in shoals—simply in shoals—a person like Michael Reid would not have much chance.”
“Do you think so?” said Susie very quietly. “I am sorry for the great world, then.”
“You know nothing about it, Susie.”