Ellen gazed at him in hurt silence. She guessed at his meaning and it humiliated her girlish pride.
It was Fanny who said somewhat impatiently: “I’m sure I can’t think what you mean, Jim.”
“Well, in my humble opinion, it would be downright stupid for you two girls to fool yourselves into disliking Lydia Orr. She’d like to be friends with everybody; why not give her a chance?”
Again Ellen did not reply; and again it was Fanny who spoke the words that rose to her friend’s lips unuttered:
“I can’t see how you should know so much about Miss Orr, Jim.”
“I don’t myself,” he returned good-humoredly. “But sometimes a man can see through a woman better—or at least more fair-mindedly than another woman. You see,” he added, “there’s no sex jealousy in the way.”
Both girls cried out in protest against this.
It wasn’t so, they declared. He ought to be ashamed of himself! As for being jealous of any one—Fanny haughtily disclaimed the suggestion, with a bitterness which astonished her friend.
It was something of a relief to all three when the brilliantly illuminated house and grounds belonging to Mrs. Solomon Black came in view. Japanese lanterns in lavish abundance had been strung from tree to tree and outlined the piazza and the walk leading to the house.
“Doesn’t it look lovely!” cried Ellen, scattering her vexation to the winds. “I never saw anything so pretty!”