He was satisfied about something.
“What are you getting down into?” he asked jubilantly.
“Why,” pricking her work with her needle, “I think he—cares a great deal, and he is so splendid that I want her to care. How they would work together. Bensalem has been getting her ready.”
“Well, I declare!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet.
“Are you displeased?”
“There’s nothing to be displeased about. Is this the way girls plot against each other? No wonder we men have to tread softly.”
“It isn’t plotting exactly. It’s only hoping.”
“Is that your secret?”
“Yes, and don’t you tell,” she said, alarmed.
“No; it shall be my secret; yours and mine. Now what are we going to do about it?”