"There, Fernando, by zounds, there is some rich fellow you can be sure!"
said Sukey as the vehicle drove by. "Egad! I would like to see who is
inside of it."
He had that privilege, for the carriage paused only half a block away,
and an elderly man with a rolling, sailor-like movement got out and
assisted a young girl of about sixteen to alight.
"Jehosophat--Moses and Aaron's rod, my boy! do you see her?" gasped
Sukey.
"Yes."
"Ain't she pretty?"
"Hush! she may hear you."
"Well, if she'd get mad at that, she is different from most girls."
"Her father might not think it much of a compliment."
The coachman, closing the door of the carriage mounted his box and took
the reins, while the pretty girl took her father's arm and came down the
street passing the young men, who, we fear, stared at her rudely. They
were hardly to be blamed for it, for she was as near perfection as a
girl of sixteen can be. Tall, willowy form, with deep blue eyes, soft as
a gazelle's, long, silken lashes and arched eyebrows, with golden hair,
and so graceful that every movement might be set to music.
Fernando gazed after her until she disappeared into a fashionable shop,
and then, uttering a sigh, started as if from a dream.
"What do you say now, old fellow?" asked Sukey.
"Let us go home."
"Home?"
"Well, back to the widow Mahone's inn."
"All right; now let us try to find the trail.
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