"Who is
Mrs. Atherton, child?"
"Oh-h-h!" laughed Edith deprecatingly; "don't you know her? She's
Grace Atherton--the biggest lady in town; sleeps in linen sheets
and pillow cases every night, and washes in a bath-tub every
morning."
"Grace Atherton!" and Edith quailed beneath the fiery glance bent
upon her by those black sightless eyes. "Did Grace Atherton send
these flowers to me?" and the bright-hued blossoms dropped
instantly from his hand.
"Yes, sir, she did. What makes you tear so? Are you in a tantrum?"
said Edith, as he sprang to his feet and began unsteadily to pace
the summer-house.
Richard Harrington possessed a peculiar temperament, Grace
Atherton had wounded his pride, spurned his love, and he THOUGHT
he hated her, deeming it a most unwomanly act in her to make these
overtures for a reconciliation. This was why he TORE so, as Edith
had expressed it, but soon growing more calm, he determined to
conceal from the quick-witted child the cause of his agitation,
and resuming his seat beside her, he asked her many questions
concerning Grace Atherton and herself, and as he talked he felt
his olden interests in his companion gradually coming back.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53