"I declare I'll take this blue one! It is of the most excellent texture, and 'tis always cool on the river in the evening."
"Virginia, will you have a white one?" asked her mother.
"No, thank you, madam. I have cloaks and to spare. With your permission, I will go look at the fans farther up. My last was broken at the Masons' rout."
"You may look at them, and I will join you presently. This crimson cape will suit Deborah. Would you like this, Debby?" She turned about to find only Lucy at her side.
"Where is she?" asked Madam Trevor of her daughter.
"On the other side of the pier, I think. Shall I call her?"
"At once. What can she be doing there?"
Lucy turned about and started to wend her way among the groups to the other side of the dock, where Deborah stood over a little collection of chemists' implements. Beside her, a sacred book in his hand, was a young man, at sight of whom Lucy hesitated, her face crimson, her heart beating unsteadily. She stopped almost still for a moment to watch them. Deborah was lovingly handling a siphon, while the young Puritan minister talked to her. Presently he caught sight of Lucy, who was constrained to move towards him again when she perceived the quick light that came into his face and the bow that he made. Deborah turned, and her mouth twitched a little as she perceived her cousin's fluttering nervousness. "Master Whitney was speaking of you, Lucy," she said.
"I did myself the honor to inquire after the health of you and Mistress Virginia," said the young divine, embarrassment and pleasure adding a load of stiffness to his manner.
"Oh, thank you!—As you see—we are very well.—Debby," she added, reluctantly, "mother wants you at once to see if you would like a crimson cloak.—I am so sorry—I mean—"