“The chain tightens,” cogitated the future mistress of the Bigge House, “and if I should want to break it!”
But why should she want to break it, unless—
“There’s no use counting upon that,” Mell frankly admitted to herself, “and no man’s difficulties must be allowed to interfere with my future. And Rube is so eligible! A good fellow, too; a most excellent fellow! There’s a something, however. What is it?”
We will tell you, Mell—Rube is not Jerome.
Going back into the house she found her father and mother peeping through the blinds.
“Lord, Lord!” exclaimed old Jacob. “You’se jess er gittin’ up, Mell! I knowed ye could do it, darter; but I mus’ say, I never lookt fer yer ter git es high es the Bigge House.”
Mrs. Creecy inquired about Mrs. Rutland. Was she nice? pleasant?
“Very. No one could be nicer or pleasanter. She asked for you—both of you.”
“She did? Then why didn’t you tell us?”