"What idiotic things you say, Mary!" cried Dora, impatiently. "There, I think you've brushed my hair quite enough. Thank you very much."
"Quite welcome, Miss," said the little servant; "Good-night, Miss!"
"Good-night, Mary."
The diamond ring, twinkling and flashing, attracted a good deal of attention at the post-office. The other clerks went into raptures about it, and told Dora that she was a very lucky girl. Everybody--it seemed to Dora--said she was a lucky girl. Dora did not altogether appreciate being informed so frequently of her stupendous luck. After all, this ring was only the symbol of a bargain. Was she not giving herself in exchange for it? She did not put the matter to herself quite in these words, but this was the drift of her reflections on the subject. Why should she be considered so very, very lucky?
Miss Cook and she got away from the post-office early one afternoon.
"We will have a nice tea somewhere," said Dora; "I will treat you, dear."
"Shall we go to tea with Mr Somers?" suggested Miss Cook.
"Mr Somers! But he will be out."
"No, he won't. I saw him last night at the house of some friends of mine, and he told me he would be in to-day. I knew we should get off early to-day, and so I asked him," added Miss Cook, a little shamefacedly.
Dora sighed. She was fond of Miss Cook, and she was afraid that Mr Somers was never likely to take a fancy to her friend.