“And will you give me a kiss, Augustus dear?” she said, with her most winning smile.
What could Augustus do? A hundred desperate alternatives darted through his mind. He would bolt into the tea-room; he would shout for help; he would show fight; he would— But while he was making up his mind what he would do, he found himself being kissed on the cheek in the most barefaced manner, before everybody, by this extraordinary female; and, more than that, being actually set down on the sofa beside her! He only hoped Parson or Brown had not seen it.
Well for Miss Stringer she did not guess the wrath that boiled in the bosom of her small companion!
“And do you live here, dear?” inquired she, pleased to have this opportunity of studying the juvenile human nature in which she was so much interested.
“No, I don’t,” said Telson, surlily; then, suddenly recollecting he was in polite though disagreeable company, he added, “ma’am.”
“And where do you go to school, pray?” inquired the spinster.
“Oh, Willoughby,” replied Telson, who had gradually given up all hope of tea, and was making up his mind to his fate.
Miss Stringer gave a little start at this piece of information, and was on the point of betraying her identity, but she forbore. “After all,” thought she, “he might be more constrained if I were to enlighten him on that subject.”
“So you go to Willoughby,” she said, with interest. “And how do you like it?”
“Oh, well enough,” said Telson, relenting somewhat towards his companion as she showed no further signs of kissing him. “Nice lot of fellows, you know, on the whole.”