“I do not think he will ever dare to annoy you again.”
“I should think not, or I will tell Uncle John, and he will punish him,” Floy replied; then added, timidly: “But the dream that sent you to me?—I am quite curious over it.”
“I should like you to hear it, only—promise me you will not be angry,” tenderly.
“Of course not. One can not stop dreams. And this one must have been a good one.”
“It was charming!” he cried, vivaciously.
“Then tell me all about it.” And it seemed to him that all unconsciously to herself she nestled confidingly closer to his side.
He also leaned nearer, so that their heads were very, very close, so close that his warm breath ruffled the strands of her curly hair and swept her cheek, as he began:
“In the first place, I was seriously annoyed yesterday when I heard you answer Miss Maury’s challenge, by declaring that you would spend the night alone in the haunted house—I believe it is said to be haunted, is it not? Although I was almost a stranger to you, and you seemed to avoid me somehow, I determined to seek an opportunity to dissuade you from your purpose, and to tell you frankly how imprudent such an adventure would be. I even determined that if you refused to listen to me I would seek out your parents and acquaint them with your girlish folly.”
“But I have no parents—only adopted ones, you know.”
“Yes; I heard the story of your life to-day from a young man who seemed to admire you very much,” returned Beresford; adding: “But of course that made no difference, as your adopted parents would exercise the same authority over you as your own.”