“Yes—my parents reside in W——.”
“Indeed!—you have been on a visit, then, to P——?”
“No sir—I have been to school; and I am going home to spend the vacation. Pa would have come for me, but he could not spare time.”
“Oh,” said I, “you will not be unprotected. Fortunately I am going to W—— myself.”
“But Pa says I mustn’t talk to strangers.”
“Ah, your Pa is—an old gentleman! My name is Weston—Harry Weston, so I hope I am no longer a stranger.”
“Indeed—I don’t know sir; I never heard of you before.”
This was very candid, and very discreet. I remained silent; and my fair companion seemed to be deeply engaged in perusing a little work which she drew from her reticule.
“What may that be?” I at length ventured to inquire, although I was pretty well convinced it was the ‘Young lady’s Amaranth,’ or a Pocket Lacon, containing ‘Good Advice in small Parcels.’
“This book, sir?”