“He’s a nice panther,—a kind, polite one. Not growly and ugly like a bear.”
“Ah, there you have got in some one I know,” said Miss Marsden, teasingly.
“Bears have good qualities,” said Nina, composedly.
“You are not in love with your husband, my dear,” reflected Miss Marsden; “or, if you are, you are so artlessly artful about it that one can’t make you out.” Then she said aloud, “Will you hand me that bottle? I have a wretched headache.”
Nina at once dissolved in compassion. “Do let me smooth your head. Mamma says I can do it nicely.”
“Well, if you like, child. Why don’t you accent the last a in that word?”
“I am not English, I am American,” said the girl, warmly.
“You need not fear; no one will ever take you for an English girl,” replied her companion, as she brushed back the hair from her white forehead in order to allow Nina’s fingers to wander over it.
“You are a kind little thing,” she murmured, after a few minutes.
Nina, used to the constant companionship of members of her own sex, had missed them sorely during the last three days; and, touched by the gracefully uttered words, she bent down and kissed the forehead she was stroking.