"Why, didn't you see Mr. Carleton come in?" said Edith following her;--"I did--he came in long before you had done talking, and mamma held up her finger and made him stop; and he stood at the back of your chair the whole time listening. Mr. Stackpole didn't know he was there, either. But what's the matter with you?"
"Nothing--" said Fleda,--but she made her escape out of the room the next instant.
"Mamma," said Edith, "what ails Fleda?"
"I don't know, my love," said Mrs. Evelyn. "Nothing, I hope."
"There does, though," said Edith decidedly.
"Come here, Edith," said Constance, "and don't meddle with matters above your comprehension. Miss Ringgan has probably hurt her hand with throwing stones."
"Hurt her hand!" said Edith. But she was taken possession of by her eldest sister.
"That is a lovely girl, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn with an indescribable look--outwardly benign, but beneath that most keen in its scrutiny.
He bowed rather abstractedly.
"She will make a charming little farmer's wife, don't you think so?"