“Girl alive, it’s not in the least the same thing!” cried the gaunt woman energetically. “Making love to a girl, and tying up to her under bonds are by no means the same! Men flirt and flit; woo and walk, and the girls think that there’s so much honor back of warm looks that they’re as secure behind a bow as a vow. Now, my honest Cicely Adair—for I know you’re as straight a girl as walks—these words may sound alike, but their sounds and sense are quite different. I’m going to tell you something about G. Rodney Moore; he was running hard after Gertrude Davenport a while ago; she’s a rich beauty, and now he’s dangling after you. Honorable?”
Cis laughed long and merrily; it is not unpleasant to have victory over another girl attributed to oneself, however humble-minded and gentle-hearted the conqueror may be. Cis began to sing the once popular song:
“‘But I never knew, dear,
That I should meet you, dear;
So let’s forget the girls I met
Before I met you!’”
“H’m!” grunted Miss Gallatin. “That’s no answer, though it’s been given as one ever since Noë’s grandson went gallivanting! Miss Adair, you’re a good girl not to slap me and bid me go about my own affairs, but I suppose you know that I want to befriend you. I know that you go off seeing the country with my captivating lodger, and it worries me. I don’t trust that fellow; I never have. Now you will slap me! You’ll put up with my meddling, but not with my misjudging your hero; is that so?”
“Well, I don’t like it,” said Cis, “but I’m sure you mean it kindly, and can’t help seeing Rod crooked. In reality he’s splendid, true as steel, kind—splendid, that’s all!”
“He tells me that he shall not stay with me all winter, that he is looking about for an apartment, a small one. Know anything about that?” Miss Gallatin demanded.
“Oh, the absurd fellow!” cried Cis, blushing furiously to the roots of her brilliant red hair. “This winter! Mercy! No, Miss Gallatin, I don’t know anything about it, but I suppose—This winter! Just imagine!”