“And I am going, too,” cried Alice. “Won’t Marian be surprised to see us both. I hope she’ll come to the door herself; and Frederic, if she does, you’ll kiss her, won’t you, and act like you was glad, for if you don’t, maybe she won’t come back with us.”
“I will do right,” answered Frederic, adding in a low tone, “Perhaps she will not be there.”
“Yes, she will,” was Alice’s positive reply, “or if she’s not, somebody can tell us where she is. Only to think, we shall see her to-morrow. I do wish it would hurry, and I’m glad Miss Grey is not coming until the day after. It will be so nice to have them both here. Do you suppose they’ll like each other, Marian and Miss Grey?”
“I dare say they will,” returned Frederic, smiling at the little girl’s enthusiasm, and hoping she might not be disappointed.
Anon, a shadow clouded Alice’s face, and observing it, Frederic passed his hand over her hair, saying, “What is it, birdie?”
“Frederic,” said Alice, creeping closely to the side of the young man, “Isn’t Miss Grey very beautiful?”
“Mr. Gordon and Ben say so,” returned Frederic, and Alice continued:
“Don’t be angry with me, but you loved Isabel the best because she was the handsomest, and now you won’t love Miss Grey better than Marian, will you, and you’ll be Marian’s husband right off, won’t you?”
“When Marian comes here, it will be as my wife,” said Frederic, and with this answer Alice was satisfied.
“I wish it would grow dark faster,” she said, for she could tell when it was night; and Frederic, while listening to the many different ways she conjured up for them to meet Marian, became almost as impatient as herself for the morrow, when his renewed hopes might, perhaps, be realized.