("Nor I," thought Horace to himself, "and that's the charm of it, somehow.")
"Surely it isn't worth while getting into trouble with my grandfather for a mere flirtation."
"If you always stop to think whether a thing is worth while or not, Percy, I wouldn't be you for all the money that ever was coined."
"And if it is more," said the other, not heeding the remark—"I like fair play, but if it is more—"
"What then?" For Percival hesitated.
"We'll talk of that another time," said the latter. "Not now. Only don't be rash. Look! there's Sissy."
"How pretty she is!" thought Percival, as they went toward her. "What can Horace see in Addie Blake, that he should prefer her? She is a fine girl, handsome—magnificent, if you like—but Sissy is like a beautiful old picture, sweet and delicate and innocent. I can't fancy her with secrets like Addie with this Langley Wood mystery of hers. If it had not been for that ideal of mine—"
They had reached the two ladies.
Meanwhile, Mr. Thorne had listened to more odds and ends of gossip, and had gone on his way, warily searching among the shifting, many-colored groups. He was curious, and in due time his curiosity was gratified. The Blake girls passed him so closely that he could have touched them. They knew perfectly well who he was, and Lottie looked at him, but Addie passed on in her queenly fashion, with her head high, apparently not aware of his existence.
"So," said the old gentleman to himself, "that is Horace's taste? Well, she is very superb and disdainful, and I should think Patent Corn-Flour paid pretty well. She might have bestowed a glance on me, as I suppose she destines me the honor of being her grandpapa-in-law, but no doubt she knows what she is about, and it may be wiser to seem utterly unconscious, as Horace has not introduced us yet. Perhaps he will defer that ceremony a little while longer still. As for the other, she looked me straight in the face, as if she didn't care a rap for any man living. I shouldn't think that girl was afraid of anything on earth—or under it or above it, for that matter. A temper of her own, plainly enough. The beautiful Miss Blake is Horace's taste, of course (I could have sworn to that without a word from him), and ninety-nine out of a hundred would agree with him. But if I were five-and-twenty, and had to choose between them, I'd take that fierce-eyed girl and tame her!"