“Perhaps it was some girl whom he intended to marry,” said Bess, who had a strong vein of sentiment in her composition.
“Well, we’ll never get a chance to know,” observed Belle. “We’ve probably seen Mr. Samuel Morley for the first and last time.”
“I don’t know about that,” rejoined Cora. “I have a sort of feeling that we’ll run across him again.”
“Listen to the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter,” mocked Belle.
“Sybilla, the reader of the mystic sphere, the gazer into the crystal globe!” gibed Bess.
“I’m no prophetess,” disclaimed Cora. “I just have a feeling that way. Perhaps I’ll have the laugh on you scoffers yet.”
“We’re willing to wait,” returned Belle. “Just now it’s the present more than the future that I’m worrying about. That Good Samaritan act of ours has taken up a good deal of time. And you know that we planned to stop in that department store when we get to Roxbury and buy some of the things we came away without in our hurry this morning. I’ve simply got to have that chiffon.”
“And I need a new box of powder,” put in Bess. “My old one is nearly empty.”
“Such victims of the vanity of this world,” sighed Cora. “But don’t worry, girls. I’ll throw in a little extra speed and you’ll hear the car fairly purr.”
“Not too fast,” cautioned Belle. “After what we saw to-day in the way of fast driving, I’m willing to go a little slower.”