“Do you think Gussy and Charley are in love with each other?” said Julia suddenly, on their way home.
“Julia! one doesn’t talk of such things till—till they are publicly known.”
“For I don’t,” said Julia. “Gussy, yes, she is too silly. I could kill her when she looks at him so; but, Charley, no—and he’s the most important of the two, isn’t he, Miss Summerhayes?”
“I don’t know why he should be the most important; they are both equally important,” said Janet, in her rôle of governess; “besides, it is not our business to discuss any such matter.”
“Oh! that is all bosh,” said Julia. “Of course, I must discuss it when it’s my own sister. I’ll tell you what I think. He has not made up his mind; he thinks he’ll do it, and then something makes him think that he’ll not do it. He knows that whenever he likes to put out his hand Gussy will——”
“Julia, I can’t let you talk so.”
“Whether I talk or not, I know it all the same,” said Julia. “I hate Charley Meredith, with his red cheeks. I can’t think what she sees in him; but, though I could kill her for being so silly, I don’t want our Gussy to be disappointed. I should like him to propose and her to refuse him; but, oh! I’m afraid there is not the least chance of that. Do you think a girl should accept the very first offer, Miss Summerhayes?”
“I don’t think at all on the subject,” said Janet.
She paused, and gave a little laugh, not a sigh, which would have been more appropriate, to the memory of Dr. Harding, who had procured her that gratification.
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Julia; “why do you laugh? You were thinking of someone, Miss Summerhayes. Look! there’s a light in the room over the porch. Don’t you see?” The girl gripped her instructress by the arm. “Look, look, Miss Summerhayes; don’t you see?”