CHAPTER VIII.
When I descended from my room to the kitchen, the next evening, arrayed for my visit, with all the elegance of which my simple wardrobe admitted, Mrs. Bray exclaimed,—
"Well, Sandy, I protest, you do look smart! But don't be set up, 'cause you keep high company. I s'pose, knowin Amos was a family man, and couldn't go visitin' round, they took a notion to you."
Annie followed me to the door, saying,—
"You must remember to tell me about the picture, Sandy, and what they say of yours; and do look at the plants Miss Merton promised to show me, and see just how she looks herself."
"And anything more?" I asked, laughing.
"Yes,—what they say to you. You look as handsome to-night, Sandy, as the tall gentleman with Miss Merton,—only such a very different handsome!"
"Then you admired his appearance?" I asked, lingering. "I fancied you were too busy looking at Miss Merton to think of him."
But Annie continued to unfold her opinion without noticing my remark.
"I should be afraid he wouldn't care for me, if I didn't look and act just as he wanted me to. I don't like his way of being handsome, Sandy, so well as yours."