Frances turned, and banged down the lid of her trunk. Then she banged it again, to get the hasp to fit. Then she picked up a pair of discarded boots and threw them across the room, hitting Freddy, who entered at that moment.
“Why, sweetness!” gasped Freddy, who did not see Champney.
“Oh, go away,” cried Frances, blushing. “Don’t bother me! Can’t you see I’m too busy to waste time now?”
And to illustrate the callousness of man to true love, it is regrettable to state that Champney slipped out of the door at this point, with an expression of great muscular tension about his mouth, and no sooner was he in the hall than the brute reeled up against the wall and, leaning there, laughed to a sinful degree.
Then he walked to the end of the hall, and entering a room, also cluttered with trunks, he sat upon one of them and retold the scene to the woman packing. “I never saw anything so delicious in its way,” he laughed. “I really believe the medicine’s begun to work already. But do you know, Frances promises to be a tremendous beauty. Just now, when her cheeks and eyes were blazing so, she was simply glorious to look at.” Which shows that Champney’s cool, disregarding manner was not more than skin deep, and that unlimited possibilities lay underneath. Perhaps, too, another potion was beginning to work.
“I’m sorry she is so childish with you, Champney,” said Mrs. De Witt.
“Don’t trouble yourself about that. I really don’t mind it; indeed, I am afraid I rather enjoy it. It’s much rougher on her than on me, for she really feels it, and it’s the person who loses his or her temper who suffers the most.”
“I hope the dear child will try to be more amiable, for naturally she’s sweetness itself, and it’s bad enough to be saddled with us without making your trip worse than need be. It’s so good of you to take us!”
“Dear lady,” answered Champney, tenderly, “it’s nothing but a little set-off against your years of goodness to me. You have really given me a second home; nothing I can ever do will make me other than your debtor.”
“It’s nice to hear you say so, Champney,” said Mrs. De Witt, affectionately. “I have always felt as if you were a son of mine.”