"Why, they returned my visit—the queer young couple. Mr. Wilmerding brought her over to see me the day after we breakfasted with him. They stayed three or four hours—they were charming."
"Oh, I see; he didn't tell me."
Mrs. Rushbrook coloured a little. "You say that in a tone! I didn't ask him not to."
"I didn't say you did. However, he has had very little chance: we've scarcely spoken since that day."
"You're very wrong—he's such a good fellow."
"I like the way you give me information about him, because you've seen him three times."
"I've seen him four—I've seen him five," Mrs. Rushbrook protested. "After they had been here I went over to Mrs. Goldie's."
"Oh, to speak to her?" I cried, eagerly.
"I spoke to her, of course—it was to bid her goodbye. Mr. Wilmerding was there—that made another time. Then he came here once again. In fact, the next day ———" Mrs. Rushbrook continued.
"He came alone?"
She hesitated a moment. "Yes, he walked over. He said he was so nervous."
"Ah, to talk it over, you mean?" I exclaimed.
"To talk it over?"
"Your interference, your rescue."
Mrs. Rushbrook stared; then she burst into merriment. "You don't suppose we've spoken of that! Imagine his knowing it!"
I stood corrected—I perceived that wouldn't have done. "But what then did he come for?" I asked.
"He came to see me—as you do."
"Oh, as I do!" I laughed.
"He came because he feels so awkward with the girl."
