"Oh, do you mean, then, that you are going to tell Kate now, right away,—Kate and the other girls,—what you've told me?" asked Dorothea eagerly, and with her usual blunt inquisitiveness.
"Well, I don't know that I shall rush 'right away' now, this minute, and tell them; it isn't exactly a matter of such importance as that," answered Hope, with a laugh that was half amused and half annoyed. "I think I shall dress for dinner first, and I may sleep on it."
"Oh, now you're snubbing my inquisitiveness, I know! But, Hope, see here a minute. I—I want to say that I'm not going to talk to the girls about you. Of course, you expected that I would—would go on over that Brookside station squabble, and I might, if things hadn't turned out as they have—if I—I didn't feel as I do—as if I knew you better now, and knew how you felt about being made a show of."
Hope winced a little at this presumption on Dorothea's part that there was still a secret between them,—a secret dependent on Dorothea's own good will,—and she made haste to say,—
"It is very nice of you, I'm sure, Dorothea, to want to consult my feelings, but it isn't necessary for you to think that you must keep silent on my account."
Dorothea looked a little disappointed, and Hope felt a twinge of self-reproach as she glanced at her; but it was impossible for her to accept the attitude of indebtedness that seemed about to be thrust upon her. As she turned to leave the room, however, she said more warmly than she had yet spoken,—
"I think you have been very good-natured, Dorothea, to have taken everything that I have said so nicely—and—and"—smiling a little—"you are better-natured than I am, because you don't lay things up as I do."
"No, I don't lay up grudges, but I can lay up a little gratitude, I hope, and that helps me to be good-natured sometimes."
As she said this, Dorothea showed all her milk-white teeth in a frank laugh; and Hope, regarding her, thought to herself: "She is better natured than I am about some things, and she can be generous."