In his usual good-natured, off-hand way he entered the room, tossing into my lap a letter from brother Charlie, and telling Anna that her beau hadn’t yet written; then, as his eye fell upon Ada, he started back in evident surprise. Soon recovering himself, however, he said, as he took the little snowflake of a hand, which she offered him—
“Why, Ad, who knew you were here?”
“Not you, or you would have come sooner, I reckon;” said she, looking up in his face in a confiding kind of way, which brought a frown to Anna’s brow.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come so soon,” he replied laughingly, at the same time stealing a sidelong glance at Anna.
“Here, sit right down by me,” said Miss Montrose, as she saw him looking for a seat. “I want to scold you for not calling on me oftener when I was sick. You don’t know how neglected I felt. Why didn’t you come, hey?”
And she playfully pulled his hair, allowing her hand to remain some time among his wavy locks. This was a kind of coquetry entirely new to me, and I looked on in amazement, while Anna, more disturbed than she was willing to acknowledge, left the room. When she was gone, Ada said, letting her hand fall from Herbert’s head to his arm, “Tell me, is that the Lee girl, who attracted so much attention at Mrs. G——’s party?”
There was a look of gratified pride on Herbert’s face as he answered, “Yes—the same—don’t you think her pretty?”
They had probably forgotten my presence—Ada most certainly had, or else she did not care; for she replied, “Pretty enough for some tastes I suppose, but she lacks polish and refinement. Is she at all related to you?”
“My step-father’s niece, that’s all,” replied Herbert, while Ada quickly rejoined in a low tone, “Then, of course, I shan’t have to cousin her.”
“Probably not,” was Herbert’s answer, which I interpreted one way and Ada another.