“Dear Annie is very singular,” said Eliza, with such softness and deliberation that it was like a minor chord of music.
“Do you know of anything she has against me?” asked Tom of Imogen; but Eliza answered for her.
“Dear Annie is not in the habit of making confidantes of her sisters,” said she, “but we do know that she sometimes takes unwarranted dislikes.”
“Which time generally cures,” said Susan.
“Oh yes,” assented Eliza, “which time generally cures. She can have no reason whatever for avoiding you. You have always treated her well.”
“I have always meant to,” said Tom, so miserably and helplessly that Annie, listening, felt her heart go out to this young man, badgered by females, and she formed a sudden resolution.
“You have not seen very much of her, anyway,” said Imogen.
“I have always asked for her, but I understood she was busy,” said Tom, “and that was the reason why I saw her so seldom.”
“Oh,” said Eliza, “busy!” She said it with an indescribable tone.
“If,” supplemented Imogen, “there was system, there would be no need of any one of us being too busy to see our friends.”