"There, Winifred, you've said enough. Whatever the provocation, you could not have hit back harder,—to say I am like Mr. Flint."
"It was rather more than the truth warrants," answered Winifred, with a little spot of color flaming up in her cheeks like a danger-signal.
"I hope so," Miss Standish continued, oblivious of the red flag. "I must say, Winifred, I think you let him come here too much."
"You don't like him?"
"No, I confess I don't."
"Then you needn't like me, either, for I like him so much that I am going to marry him."
Miss Standish laid down her egg-spoon, and sat staring at Winifred.
"Well!" she exclaimed at length, "this does beat all."
Winifred opened her lips to reply, when her attention was called to the maid who came hurrying into the room with her cheesecloth duster in one hand and a folded piece of paper in the other.