Frank opened a discussion on fishing; Laura and I withdrew, and went to the window-seat.
"I am light-hearted," I said.
"It is my duty to be melancholy," she replied; "but I shall not mope after Frank has gone."
"'After them the deluge,'" said I. "How long will they stay?"
"Till they are bored, I fancy."
"Oh, they are going; we must leave our recess."
Frank and she remained; the others bid us good-night.
"I shall not come again till Christmas," he said. "These college-chaps will amuse you and make the time pass; they are young,—quite suitable companions for you girls. Vive la bagatelle!"
He sighed, and, drawing Laura's arm in his, rose to go. She groaned loudly, and he nipped her ears.
"Good-bye, Margaret; let Laura take care of you. There is a deal of wisdom in her."