“Do you expect to find somebody new?”
“Perhaps I do not expect to find any one at all,” she had answered.
“Oh, don’t be so dreary,” laughed Dinah.
Was that dreary? Once it might have seemed dreary; a year ago with what a smiting pain she would have echoed the word, but it was not a dreary prospect to-night as she stood with her father’s arm about her.
A new thing had happened to disturb her; Dinah was becoming shy and constrained in the presence of Mr. Hammerton; last summer she would run out to meet him, hang on his arm and chatter like a magpie; this summer she would oftener avoid him than move forward to greet him; this shamefacedness was altogether new and very becoming, yet the elder sister did not like it. There was no change in Mr. Hammerton, why should there be change in Dinah or in herself? He came no oftener than he had come last summer, he manifested no preference, sometimes she thought that this non-manifestation was too studied; gifts were brought to each, were it books or flowers. Did poor little Dine care for him, and was she so afraid of revealing it? Or, had she decided that it was for her sake that he came, and did she leave them so often together alone that it might be pleasanter for both? More than once or twice when he was expected, she had pleaded an engagement with Norah, and had not appeared until late in the evening.
“I wonder what’s got Dine,” their mother had remarked, “she seems possessed to run away from Gus.”
Their father had looked annoyed and exclaimed, “Nonsense, mother, nonsense.”
Tessa’s reverie was ended by Mr. Hammerton’s quick step upon the planks.
“He was here last night,” commented Mrs. Wadsworth as he crossed the street.
“Good evening, good people,” he said opening the gate. “You make quite a picture! If you had fruit and wine I should rub up my French or Spanish. I think that I am not too late; I did not hear until after tea that Professor Towne is to read tonight in Association Hall; some of your favorites, Lady Blue. Will you go, you and Dine?”