“She is superb,” he thought. “Perfect in form and feature, a little too tall, with too much hair on the top of her head. Splendid hair, though. I wonder how she would look with it down. She carries herself like a queen, and there is no one in Richmond to compare with her, but there was something somewhere, I don’t know what, which rasped—yes, that’s the word—rasped my nerves like a file. Now the little one rested me and I rather liked meeting her eyes, which are more like Nannie’s than Miss Irene’s. I believe I could—no, I don’t believe I could, either. I was never cut out to marry any one, never meant to, and don’t know as I mean to now. I don’t want to, and I won’t be driven into it, either, just for money, though that is a consideration, for I have not a very large bank account and should like a little more, and if this girl should happen to fancy me, I shall try my best to reciprocate. She did look grand, standing on that well curb, with her arm raised like the goddess of Liberty. She is beautiful and the next time I see her I shall try and be more like Tom, who well might look happy, with no bewildering will to worry him, and the little one beside him.” When an idea or name was lodged in Reginald’s mind it generally stayed there. Rena was the little one as compared with Irene, and his last conscious thought as he went shivering to bed was of the little one whose eyes were like Nannie’s. CHAPTER IX COLIN McPHERSON’S CALL The next day was hot and sultry, with signs of rain, which began to fall heavily by eight o’clock, but not so heavily that Nixon did not get through it with a basket of cut flowers from Mr. McPherson, who, he said, would call in the afternoon. There was also a note from Reginald for Irene saying that as the rain might continue all day and if it did not the roads would be very muddy, the proposed drive must be postponed to some later date. The arrival of the flowers and note created a little diversion in the household and helped to clear the atmosphere. Mrs. Parks, who was usually all amiability, was somewhat ruffled in spirits. “She felt wrong end up and didn’t know whether she was on foot or horseback,” she confided to me, said deplorable state having been brought about first by the lateness of the hour when we came in. She did not blame me as much as she did the young folks. As a rule they were regular night owls. For her part she could never get to sleep when she knew anybody was out. She kept listening for ’em till her hair began to twist, she got so nervous. It was nigh on to twelve when we came in, she said, and the tardiness of the young ladies at breakfast was another grievance. This meal, which was usually served with the utmost regularity at half-past seven, had waited until eight, and the good woman was greatly distressed for her muffins and my digester, which was sure to suffer from the delay.