“Don’t you see, Ben Pepper is in love with Charlotte—O Mrs. Fargo! we’ve been blind and stupid as owls not to see it before; but then, she’s been gone so long.”
“I can’t call you a goose, Alexia,” observed Mrs. Fargo, laying down her pen in despair; “for you never were a goose, whatever else you are. But this time you’ve made a mistake, my dear, a very great mistake.”
“We’ll see!” cried Alexia triumphantly; “I shall just tell Polly to watch Ben as a cat would a mouse.”
“You better watch these notes,” cried Mrs. Fargo irately, “for they won’t be done by the time Polly comes back;” which had the effect of sending Alexia into her chair again, where her pen fairly flew to the tune of the new thought she had gotten into her head.
Ben kept out of her way so successfully, that although she dodged after him at all sorts of times, he always slipped around some angle, or out of a door, leaving Alexia to stare at the bare walls. At last, particularly as there were many little things she found to her great delight that she could do for Polly, she gave it up in despair. And finding David alone for a moment after dinner, she besieged him with questions.
“Tell me, Davie, now like a good boy; isn’t Ben going to marry Charlotte Chatterton?”
David drew a long breath; but he wasn’t to be caught this way, so he said coolly, “I hope so, Alexia; can’t you fix matters up?”
“Oh, you incorrigible boy!” cried Alexia; “you know the secret, I do believe, and you won’t tell. I think you might tell me,” she added wheedlingly.
“Ask Ben.”
“I know he is. No need to ask him. Now, David, do you know?”