On being discovered, one of them lifted his hat and bowed low to Miss Douglas, who flushed a rosy red as she returned it, and who would instantly have burst into gleeful laughter had it not been for doing violence to her companion’s feelings.
As it was, however, she linked her arm in Miss Huntington’s and turned quickly away, but not before she had caught the look of unmistakable admiration with which the other gentleman regarded her.
“Who is she?” he asked eagerly of his companion, after he had watched her out of sight.
“That full-rigged craft, with all her sail crowded on, is Miss Aspasia Huntington, a Baltimore belle and heiress——”
“And the other?” interrupted the first speaker, somewhat impatiently.
“Is—hold on to your ears, my boy—Miss Mehetabel Douglas, of Philadelphia,” was the startling announcement, accompanied with a smile of amusement.
“Thunder!”
“’Tis rather an imposing cognomen for such a dainty piece of flesh and blood, I admit.”
“Her parents ought to be choked for giving her such a name.”
“They are already defunct, and, I believe, in no way responsible for the obnoxious appellation.”