"It was you who said something about his young lady this afternoon—as far as I can see he doesn't behave much as if he had one."
So it was my chance remark that had run her wheel out of groove during the last few hours!
"Does he not?" I replied. "I think he appears more as though he has a young lady now than he did during my previous knowledge of him."
"Well, I don't know how you see it," she said, as she tore down her pretty hair.
"What!" I ejaculated in feigned consternation. "He has not been making love to you, has he, Dawn? I always had such faith in his manliness."
"Well, he doesn't say anything," said Dawn, with a blush. "But he glares at me in the way men do, and when I mention anything I like or want, he wants to get it for me, and all that sort of business."
"Perhaps he's falling in love unawares. Young men are often stupid, and do not recognise their distemper till it is very ripe. He ought to be removed from danger."
"Well, if I ever had a lover, and he liked another girl better, I'd be pretty sure he hadn't cared for me, and would not want him any more," she said off-handedly.
"But would it not be better to let him go away and be happy with the maid who loves him than to spoil his life by wasting his affection on you, when you only think him a great pug-looking creature that you'd be ashamed to be seen with?"
"Yes, I don't care for him," she said still more off-handedly; "but he doesn't look so queer now I've got used to him. I suppose any one who liked him wouldn't think him such a horror."