Grace deserted her shady corner, and flew at her. “O Bella, do hurry,” as she threw her arm around her; “it’s dreadfully late; do be quick; we ought to go.”
“There’s oceans of time,” said Bella with a drawl, and smoothing out the little finger in a painstaking way. “Mamma isn’t half ready yet—at least she hasn’t her bonnet on. Oh! do you know my cousin Charley Swan?” indicating with a nod the sharp-eyed young man.
“We’ve entertained each other for a good half-hour or so,” observed Charley, not particular as to exact statements. “Say, Bella, if Aunt Isabel isn’t ready, I believe I’ll run around to Miss Willoughby’s, and get her to let Jenny and Francina off to go with us. Stupid in me not to think of it till I saw Miss Strange come in.”
“Er—ow!” Grace gave a sharp nip to Bella’s plump arm. “Stop him,” she whispered tragically. Bella pulled out a hair-pin from some mysterious quarter under her hat, and set it in again, before she condescended to answer. “No, you must not, Charley,” she said, pursing up her small mouth, and then falling to on her glove again. “Button it, will you?” presenting it to him. “You see, mamma will be very angry; for she’s just as likely to settle her bonnet right the first attempt. I’ve known her to. And although Tom’s no doubt wrestling in the agonies of tying his necktie, yet it’s just like him to hop down without the least warning before you could possibly get back. Then think of me!” She spread her white gloves dramatically out, as if words were unequal to the occasion.
Just then Tom whistled his way in. “Whew, you ready in your togs, Charley! Well, it takes you Western fellows to be spry. Where’s the mother?” turning to Bella.
“Here’s Miss Strange, Tom,” said his sister, clutching Grace’s arm; “haven’t you any manners? Angela, this is my brother Tom.”
Grace started at the word Angela, and forgot to bow, as Tom doubled up like a jack-knife and made her his best obeisance. Then it was too late when she remembered; and she stood there blushing under the hired bonnet, till Charley remarked in a way that did not help matters any, “Oh, so I am an older acquaintance of Miss Strange than you, Tom.”
“How did you ever tell such an awful story as to say my name was Angela,” cried Grace in a whisper as they hurried off to the carriage, Mrs. Drysdale at last appearing.
“I didn’t say so; stop pinching me; I’m black and blue already,” retorted Bella. “I’ve a right to call you what I’ve a mind to. And I’m going to call you Angela the rest of this blessed afternoon. So mind you act as if you’d heard the name before. If you don’t, I’ll tell everybody who you are.”
This had the effect of throwing Grace into such a panic that she answered Mrs. Drysdale’s kind attempts at conversation with her at random, and the twenty miles to Badgertown were made in a whirl of emotions possessing her, till by the time the train paused at the little station, she had a confused notion of either telling her whole story and throwing herself on the mercy of the chaperone, or of picking up her long skirts, and fleeing over the country meadows toward home.