"Finish your teas, my
dears," said Mr. Masters, who wished to stop the discussion rather
than to carry it on before a more select audience.
"You've got to make up your mind to-night," said Mrs. Masters, "and
you'll be going over to the Bush at eight"
"No, I needn't. He is to come on Monday. I told Nickem I wouldn't
see him to-night; nor, of course, to-morrow."
"Then he'll go to Bearside."
"He may go to Bearside and be --! Oh, Lord! I do wish you'd let me
drop the business for a few minutes when I am in here. You don't
know anything about it. How should you?"
"I know that if I didn't speak you'd let everything slip through
your fingers. There's Mr. Twentyman. Kate, open the door."
Kate, who was fond of Mr. Twentyman, rushed up, and opened the
front door at once. In saying so much of Kate, I do not mean it to
be understood that any precocious ideas of love were troubling that
young lady's bosom. Kate Masters was a jolly bouncing schoolgirl of
fifteen, who was not too proud to eat toffy, and thought herself
still a child. But she was very fond of Lawrence Twentyman, who had
a pony that she could ride, and who was always good-natured to her.
All the family liked Mr. Twentyman,--unless it might be Mary, who
was the one that he specially liked himself. And Mary was not
altogether averse to him, knowing him to be good-natured, manly,
and straightforward.
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