“Why not? we are going to give him the rose-wood set of things, have
speeches, cheers for the King of Clubs, and no end of fun.”
“I can't help it; there would be no fun for me, and I couldn't look
him in the face after all this.”
“Oh, pooh! yes, you could, or it will be the first time you dared
not do damage with those wicked eyes of yours.”
“It is the first time I ever loved any one.” Dolly's voice was so
low, and her head drooped so much, that this brief confession was
apparently put away in Dick's pocket, and being an exceedingly novel
one, filled that inflammable youth with a desire to deposit a
similar one in the other pocket, which, being emptied of its
accustomed contents, left a somewhat aching void in itself and the
heart underneath. After a moment's silence, he said,--
“Well, if you won't go, you can settle it when he comes here, though
I think we should all do better to confess coming home in the dark.”
“He won't come here again, Dick.”
“Won't he! that shows you don't know Bopp as well as I. He'll come
to say good-by, to thank mother for her kindness, and you and me for
the little things we've done for him (I wish I'd left the last
undone!), and go away like a gentleman, as he is,--see if he don't.”
“Do you think so? Then I must see him.”
“I'm sure he will, for we men don't bear malice and sulk and bawl
when we come to grief this way, but stand up and take it without
winking, like the young Spartan brick when the fox was digging into
him, you know.”
“Then, of course, you'll forgive Fan.”
“I'll be hanged if I do,” growled Dick.
“Ah ha! your theory is very good, sir, but your practice is bosh,”
quoted Dolly, with a gleam of the old mischief in her face.
Dick took a sudden turn through the room, burst out laughing, and
came back, saying heartily,--
“I'll own up; it is mean to feel so, and I'll think about forgiving
you both; but she may stop up the hole in the wall, for she won't
get any more letters just yet; and you may devote your epistolary
powers to A. Bopp in future. Well, what is it? free your mind, and
have done with it; but don't make your nose red, or take the starch
out of my collar with any more salt water, if you please.”
“No, I won't; and I only want to say that, as you owe the
explanation to us both, perhaps it would be best for you to tell
August your part of the thing as you come home to-morrow, and then
leave the rest to fate. I can't let him go away thinking me such a
heartless creature, and once gone it will be too late to mend the
matter. Can you do this without getting me into another scrape, do
you think?”
“I haven't a doubt of it, and I call that sensible. I'll fix it
capitally,--go down on my knees in the mud, if it is necessary;
treat you like eggs for fear of another smash-up; and bring him home
in such a tip-top state, you'll only have to nod and find yourself
Mrs. B. any day you like. Now let's kiss and be friends, and then go
pitch into that pie for luncheon.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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