the polite attentions possible, fastened the neck of her coat with his pearl scarf-pin, refusing the pin Emily discovered, after some search. Then we sallied forth.
When we were outside, he offered Lettie his arm with an air of injured dignity. She refused it and he began to remonstrate.
“I consider you ought to have been home as you promised.”
“Pardon me,” she replied, “but I did not promise.”
“But you knew I was coming,” said he.
“Well—you found me,” she retorted.
“Yes,” he assented. “I did find you; flirting with a common fellow,” he sneered.
“Well,” she returned. “He did—it is true—call a heifer, a heifer.”
“And I should think you liked it,” he said.
“I didn’t mind,” she said, with galling negligence.
“I thought your taste was more refined,” he replied, sarcastically. “But I suppose you thought it romantic.”
“Very! Ruddy, dark, and really thrilling eyes,” said she.
“I hate to hear a girl talk rot,” said Leslie. He himself had crisp hair of the “ginger” class.
“But I mean it,” she insisted, aggravating his anger.
Leslie was angry. “I’m glad he amuses you!”
“Of course, I’m not hard to please,” she said pointedly. He was stung to the quick.
“Then there’s some comfort in knowing I don’t please you,” he said coldly.
“Oh! but you do! You amuse me also,” she said.
