"How could I help being afraid, when you told me Miss Dolly was 'awful'?" asked John, twinkling with fun, as he sat on the arm of a seat sociably eating a sandwich, which under other circumstances would have struck him as being a remarkable combination of sawdust and sole-leather.
Before Dolly could reply except by a guilty blush, a bell rang, and John hurried away with the empty cup.
A moment or two later the stout gentleman appeared, wiping his mouth, evidently feeling in a better humor, and ready to make up with his pretty neighbor. Smiling blandly, he was about to remove the valise, when Miss Dolly laid her hand upon it, saying with great dignity, "This seat is engaged, sir. There are plenty of others now, and I wish this for my friend."
Here John, who was just behind, seeing his prize in danger, gave a gentle shove to several intervening fellow-beings, who in turn propelled the "stout party" past the disputed place, which the young man took with an air of entire satisfaction, and a hearty "Thank you!" which told Dolly he had overheard her little speech.
She colored beautifully, but said with grateful frankness,—
"It wasn't a fib: a friend in need is a friend indeed, and in return for the cinder I'm glad to give you a seat."
"Blessed be the cinder, then!" murmured John, feeling at peace with all mankind. Then taking advantage of the propitious moment, he added in a penitential tone,—
"I want to apologize for my stupidity and unintentional rudeness yesterday."
"About what?" asked Dolly, innocently, though her eyes began to sparkle with amusement.
"Why, taking it into my head that Miss Hill must be oldish, and going on in that absurd way about spinsters."