“But, Great Scott!” exclaimed Winthrop, exasperatedly; “you don’t think for a moment, do you, that I deliberately simulated illness in order to work on her sympathies?”
“Of course not,” said the Major, earnestly. “How could you have known? No, no; I merely congratulated you on the fortunate—ah—coincidence, sir.”
“Oh! Then I am to understand that as a well man Miss Wayne will refuse to harbor me, but as an invalid she will consent to do so—for a consideration?”
“Exactly, Mr. Winthrop; that is just how it stands, sir.”
“And having once been accepted will it be necessary for me to continue to pose as an invalid for the rest of my stay?” he asked dryly.
“We-ell,” answered the Major, hesitatingly, “I don’t deny that it would help, but I don’t reckon it’ll be absolutely necessary, sir.”
Winthrop smiled.
“I’m glad to hear it, for I’m rather tired of being an invalid, and I don’t think I should enjoy even making believe for very long. May I ask whether Miss Wayne’s dislike for persons from my section of the country is ineradicable, Major?”
“I sincerely hope not, sir!” replied the Major, earnestly. “Her brother’s views on the subject were very—ah—settled, sir, and Miss India had the highest respect for his opinions. But she has never had the fortune, I believe, to meet with a real Northern gentleman, Mr. Winthrop.” And the Major bowed courteously.
“And the niece? Miss——?”