One evening, Mrs. Hazleton came home from a large party in high spirits. She had marked her future son-in-law, and Julia had now only to bring down the game! Full, therefore, was she of the praises of young Herman Wallace. He was not only very rich, very handsome, very graceful, but of an ancient Scottish family—could trace his descent even from the great hero, Sir William Wallace—at least Mrs. Pryout had said so.
“But, ma’ma,” interposed Julia, “he is the stiffest, coldest mortal—a beautiful petrifaction of man! When at last you got an opportunity to introduce me,”—and Julia, sly girl, remembered how blind she had been to many winks and nods and “wreathed smiles” of managing ma’ma,—“he looked down upon me with those great black eyes—oh, so cold and disdainful—he might just suit you, Alice, but as for me—”
“Nonsense!” interrupted Mrs. Hazleton, “he did no such thing. I tell you what first drew my particular attention to him, was his very evident admiration of you!”
“Indeed, ma’ma!”
“Yes, indeed, silly child. I overheard him asking who that very beautiful girl was in blue and silver—”
“O, ma’ma!”
“I don’t wonder he asked, however, for you did look sweetly. It was when you were waltzing with young Langden, and as you floated so sylph-like around the room, I could not help thinking of a portrait I once saw of—”
“A Ninnybrain, ma’ma?”
Mr. Hazleton burst into a hearty laugh, in which the saucy girl as heartily joined, and even Alice could not refrain a smile. Mrs. Hazleton was evidently disconcerted, but too well pleased with her plans to be angry.
“You will see him again to-morrow evening, love,” she continued, “and I think you will alter your opinion.”