"I am sure," said Hargrave, indifferently, "I knew no difference in the bouquets—I have nothing to do with poor Dibden's unfortunate present."
"There now," said Mrs. Villars, "now do take them, if it is a fancy of yours."
"Don't be angry, love," said Selina; "only think what is to become of the party if you and Henry quarrel. No one will have spirits for anything. Don't, dear, be angry."
"For my part," said Maria, "I see nothing to be angry about."
"Nor I," said Hargrave, as he left the room.
"Now see," said Mrs. Villars, "how you have vexed him."
"Something more than that, I fear," said Maria.
"Well, I really have no patience," observed her mother; "with lovers' quarrels—there, smile and make it all right again. We all know what your feelings are; but do, there is a dear girl, cheer up, for all our sakes. Is she not a silly girl, Mabel."
The latter was too candid to venture on a reply, as she stood busied in restoring the bouquet to order.
Caroline received these offerings to her wrath, with haughty indifference; but, at length, she suffered herself to be appeased by their repeated entreaties, and Mrs. Villars whispered to her niece, that if she now offered the flowers, she thought the dear girl would receive them.