“But he may come with this Louis le Desire, Kate, and in spite of your Arcadian dreams of shepherds and piping swains, you may succumb,” said Minnie, shaking her little hand at her sister.
“Have I lived to be told this?” cried Kate. “Of all people in the world, do I love piping swains?”
“To be sure you do, or you wouldn’t admire all those little china monsters under green trees and reclining on rocks that Miss Bobson crowds upon her tables. I’ve seen you gaze at them with an eye of love and inspiration, ten minutes at a time.”
“Yes, to keep serious while you sympathized with her about the tarnished officer that hangs over the mantle-piece.”
“Unnatural girl!” cried Minnie. “Is it possible that you laugh at the sorrows of others? While I listen with ready tears to the account of his loss at sea, you are making light of this sacred wo. You shall never deceive Miss Bobson again, Kate, for I shall warn her against the deceit of young ladies who have a passion for her porcelain, and draw her in a retired place the very next time she unbosoms the locket containing curls of ancient hair.”
“Minnie! Minnie!” cried Blanche, reproachfully, “is nothing sacred to you?”
“Nothing about Miss Bobson, of course,” was the reply of the heedless girl. “Do you wish to impose on me to pity her mawkishness?”
“To pity her age, Minnie, and her loneliness, if nothing else,” said Kenneth, gravely. “And also to respect her years.”
“Mercy on me! what have I done? Laughed at a ridiculous old maid, and drawn Kate into the snare. This is a mountain and a mole-hill, indeed.”
“Well, leave her out then, Minnie,” said Blanche, “and let us reprove you a little for laughing at everybody and every thing. I heard you this morning crying like Mrs. Simms, and you are too old now—”