Turning to capture her flying tresses, she caught sight of Colonel Ferrers, and her confusion was redoubled.
"Oh!" she cried, the crimson mounting from her cheeks to her forehead, bathing her in a fiery tide. "Oh! how could you? He—he will be sure I am a tomboy now."
"Nothing of the kind, my fair Atalanta!" exclaimed the Colonel, who had the ears of a fox. He advanced, beaming, and flourishing his stick. "Nothing of the kind!" he repeated. "He is delighted, on the contrary, to see a young creature who can make the free movements of nature with nature's grace and activity. Harry Monmouth! Miss Hildegarde, I wish I were twenty years younger, and I would challenge you to a race myself!"
CHAPTER XI.
A CALL AND A CONSPIRACY.
"And you really seriously intend passing the winter here?" asked Miss Leonie Loftus.
This young lady had come to make a parting call at Braeside. It was near the end of August, and three months of country life were all that she could possibly endure, and she was going with her mother to Long Branch, and thence to Saratoga.
"You really mean it?" she repeated, looking incredulous.