“Pshaw! what’s the use of being so silly as to quarrel over a Miss Nobody?” cried Gertie, stamping her pretty slippered foot. “Guess what else is the news.”
“Haven’t I told you I despise guessing?” cried Bess, angrily. “It is not good form to insist upon a person’s guessing––please remember it.”
“Write it down on ice,” said Eve, sotto voce, mimicking her elder sister’s tone.
“Well,” said Gertie, with a look of triumph, “I drove over to Mrs. Lyon’s yesterday to see how everything was progressing for that contemplated marriage, and, lo! she informs me 84 the wedding is postponed for the present, and Rex––handsome Rex––is coming home alone.”
“No––o!” cried both the sisters in chorus.
Bess sat bolt upright, and Eve danced around the room clapping her hands.
“I don’t think much of a marriage which has been postponed,” said Bess, a bright spot glowing on both of her cheeks. “Who knows but what one of us may have a chance of winning handsome Rex Lyon, after all? He is certainly a golden prize!”
“‘Don’t count the chickens,’ etc.,” quoted Eve, saucily.
“Gertrude!” said Bess, severely, “you will learn after awhile never to speak before Eve. She is as liable to do mischief as her namesake was in the Garden of Eden.”
“You ought never to go back on your own sex,” retorted Eve, banging the door after her as she quitted the room, Rover, an ugly-looking mastiff, closely following at her heels.