“Proudfute tells me this is to be a reception in honour of your friend Ruthven, and Miss Elphinstone,” said Arthur. “It seems the wedding is to come off soon. Proudfute is a relation of theirs, you know.”
“No; I did not know it,” said Graeme; and in a little she added, “ought that to make any difference about my going? My note is written but not sent.”
“I should think not. You are not supposed to know anything about it. It is very likely not true. And it is nothing to us.”
“No; that is true,” said Graeme. “Rosie, my dear, you are playing too quickly. That should be quite otherwise at the close,” and rising, she went to the piano and sat down beside her sister. They played a long time together, and it was Rose who was tired first ‘for a wonder.’
“Graeme, why did you not tell Harry the true reason that you did not wish to go to Mrs Roxbury’s?” said Rose, when they went up-stairs together.
“The true reason?” repeated Graeme.
“I mean, why did you not speak to him as you spoke to me?”
“I don’t know, dear. Perhaps I ought to have done so. But it is not so easy to speak to others as it is to you. I am afraid Harry would have cared as little for the true reason as for the one I gave.”
“I don’t know, Graeme. He was not satisfied; and don’t you think it would have been better just to say you didn’t think it right to go out so much—to large parties, I mean.”
“Perhaps it would have been better,” said Graeme, but she said no more; and sat down in the shadow with her Bible in her hand for the nightly reading. Rose had finished her preparations for bed before she stirred, and coming up behind her she whispered softly,—