suffered Mr. Flack to possess himself for a moment of her hand, but neither of the girls had asked the young man to sit down. "I thought you were going to stay a month at Nice," Delia continued.
"Well, I was, but your father's letter started me up."
"Father's letter?"
"He wrote me about the row—didn't you know it? Then I broke. You didn't suppose I was going to stay down there when there were such times up here."
"Gracious!" Delia exclaimed.
"Is it pleasant at Nice? Is it very gay? Isn't it very hot now?" Francie asked.
"Oh, it's all right. But I haven't come up here to talk about Nice, have I?"
"Why not, if we want to?" Delia inquired. Mr. Flack looked at her for a moment very hard, in the whites of the eyes; then he replied, turning back to her sister: "Anything you like, Miss Francie. With you one subject is as good as another. Can't we sit down? Can't we be comfortable?" he added.
"Comfortable? of course we can!" cried Delia, but she remained erect while Francie sank upon the sofa again and their companion took possession of the nearest chair.
"Do you remember what I told you once, that the people will have the plums?" George Flack asked of the younger girl.
