“I have no friends,” Susie answered, with a stony expression that alarmed Mrs. Forest. What could she mean? “It must be,” she said to herself, “Dan’s attention to Miss Marston. Poor thing! I wonder if she really expected him to marry her?”
By-and-by the quick eye of Dr. Forest detected Susie’s condition, and his anger at his son was bitter and terrible; but he said nothing, waiting for the end of the week, when Dan would come home for the Sunday. Saturday evening the doctor came in rather late. He first went into the drawing-room and staid a few minutes. Dan was basking in the heaven of Miss Marston’s smiles. The parlor casement windows were open on the southern veranda, where they sat breathing the odor of the honeysuckles that climbed over the old wooden pillars. Clara was scarcely less happy than Dan, for Dr. Delano had been exceedingly agreeable that special evening, and she had just discovered that he had a certain, as yet ill-defined, but wholly delicious influence upon her. Mrs. Forest was delighted. Dr. Delano was a “party” after her own heart; so she kept discreetly at the further end of the room, and engaged the twins near her to the best of her ability, that they might not disturb either the flirtation at the piano or that on the veranda. As the doctor entered, Leila was teazing Clara about Dr. Delano, who had just left, and there was no little spite in this teazing, for Leila had fallen in the doctor’s eyes from what appeared to be a first class object to a third class one at best, since the advent of Clara.
“Don’t mind her, sister Clara,” said Linnie. “Her nose is out of joint, that is all.” Leila scowled without turning her head, and continued her bantering, while Clara kept on improvising pretty variations upon Weber’s Dernière Pensée. “Oh, are you not tired of that gloomy air?” exclaimed Leila. “You ought to play something more gay, I should say; perhaps, though, it is appropriate as a wail.”
“Your remarks are very silly, my child,” said Mrs. Forest mildly, “and quite out of taste.”
“Well, it’s so dull here. One is overpowered by a great event like the prospect of a marriage. I wouldn’t have Dr. Delano, though, if I was dying to get married.”
“And pray why not, Miss Wisdom?” asked the doctor.
“Well, he’s too old, in the first place,” replied Leila.
“Old!” repeated Clara, leaving the piano and approaching the back of her father’s chair. “He is not as old as papa, and I always wanted to marry papa,” she added, laughing and caressing his head with both her hands.
“Why, Clara!” exclaimed Mrs. Forest. “You make such unaccountably strange speeches.”
“My girl flatters her old papa, does she not, by comparing him to her younger slaves?” As he said this he drew one of her hands round to his lips and kissed it.