“No,” said Tom, “I meant—”
He got no further. Virginia slipped her arm through Clarence's, and they went off together to the end of the veranda. Poor Tom! He passed on into the gay drawing-room, but the zest had been taken out of his antics for that night.
“Whom did he mean, Jinny?” said Clarence, when they were on the seat under the vines.
“He meant that Yankee, Stephen Brice,” answered Virginia, languidly. “I am so tired of hearing about him.”
“So am I,” said Clarence, with a fervor by no means false. “By George, I think he will make a Black Republican out of Tom, if he keeps on. Puss and Jack have been talking about him all summer, until I am out of patience. I reckon he has brains. But suppose he has addressed fifty Lincoln meetings, as they say, is that any reason for making much of him? I should not have him at Bellegarde. I am surprised that Mr. Russell allows him in his house. I can see why Anne likes him.”
“Why?”
“He is on the Brinsmade charity list.”
“He is not on their charity list, nor on any other,” said Virginia, quickly. “Stephen Brice is the last person who would submit to charity.”
“And you are the last person who I supposed would stand up for him,” cried her cousin, surprised and nettled.
There was an instant's silence.