"And you mustn't
interrupt."
"I was only illustrating. Picture stories always take better with
children. But beg pardon! Go on."
"Humph! Well, he took my bait with alacrity," giving the young man a
defiant look, "so I began to talk to him as soon as he had got settled
in his chair. I asked him whether he preferred Longfellow, or
Tennyson," with a laughing glance at her discomfited sister, who had a
little weakness for displaying her knowledge of poetry. "I didn't dare
go into any of those other fellows, like--oh, Keats, say, or--or--well
any of 'em--but I knew about the 'Building of the Ship,' and there's
lots of guessing about Browning anyhow, so I thought I might steer
clear of snags, if I managed well. Mr. Carnegie seemed ready enough to
talk about them both, but oh! what a dance he did lead me! He called
me Miss Faith, right enough, but when he asked me to repeat again, in
that charming manner I knew so well, those fine lines from Jean Ingelow
that I had given him yesterday, I began to tremble. He seemed
astonished when I asked vaguely--'What lines?' and remarked that he had
never supposed me forgetful before. Then he began talking about Ibsen,
and I gave up. 'Oh! for goodness' sake, stop!' I cried, 'I'm not Faith
at all.' 'I knew it,' he said calmly, 'and thought I could soon make
you own up. Now, aren't you ashamed of yourself?' And I was!"
"And yet tried the same game on me!" commented Allyne in a low tone,
but with reproachful emphasis.
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