"
"I am fifteen and four months," said Mary, "and I do take people
in--_cruelly_."
"Well," said Colonel Clifford, "you see you can't take me in. I know your
date. So come and give your old ruffian of an uncle a kiss."
"That I will," cried Mary, and flew at Colonel Clifford, and flung both
arms round his neck and kissed him. "Oh, papa," said she, "I have got an
uncle now. A hero, too; and me that is so fond of heroes! Only this is my
first--out of books."
"Mary, my dear," said Bartley, "you are too impetuous. Please excuse her,
Colonel Clifford. Now, my dear, shake hands with your cousin, for we must
be going."
Mary complied; but not at all impetuously. She lowered her long lashes,
and put out her hand timidly, and said, "Good-by, Cousin Walter."
He held her hand a moment, and that made her color directly. "You will
come over the farm. Can you ride? Have you your habit?"
"No, cousin; but never mind that. I can put on a long skirt."
"A skirt! But, after all, it does not matter a straw what _you_ wear.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108