“Now, you make me think you a hateful prig again. But there, we needn’t quarrel, only I must say again, I don’t want to stay at Ferndale, and I pray Heaven this letter may send me permission to go home.”
He would have joined her in that fervent prayer if he had known what that letter was to bring forth, but in his ignorance and blindness he began to say to himself that it was a pity old Mrs. Barry was going to lose her bright young companion so soon.
“But, it is lonely for such a little butterfly,” he thought. “I must try to brighten up her life at Ferndale for my old friend’s sake.”
Full of this generous impulse, he said:
“It shall not be dull any more at Ferndale. I know many of the pretty, lively young girls at Lewisburg, and I shall bring some of them to call on you. Then we will devise some parties and picnics to amuse you. I only wish my mother and sisters were at home so that you could come and make a visit at Maple Shade.”
“They would not care about me!” she replied with an odd touch of bitterness.
“Miss Barry, you ought to know better than that. Did I not tell you that our families are intimate friends? My mother and my sisters would take the greatest interest in you. I wish that Mrs. Barry had sent you abroad with my sisters to be educated.”
“Thank you,” with sarcasm.
He paid no attention to her outburst, but continued, as if struck by a sudden thought:
“I have an idea.”