Lucia laughed derisively as she pulled an ear small enough, almost, to be a deformity, then tossed wraps and other articles of attire carelessly about, dropped into a low rocker, and said,--
“Only the usual set were there. I danced every dance, of course, and there was plenty of cream and coffee. Agnes and her mother know how to entertain: it’s a real pleasure to go to supper there. But I’ve kept the best to the last. There was one addition to the usual display of young men,--a tall, straight, handsome, manly, awfully stylish fellow, that set all the girls’ tongues running. You’ve seen him, but I’ll bet you a pound of candy that you can’t guess his name.”
“Oh, don’t make me guess when I’m not wide awake yet. Who was it?”
“It--was--Philip--Hayn!” said Lucia, so earnestly that she seemed almost tragical.
“Lucia Tramlay!” exclaimed Margie, dropping her chin and staring blankly. “Not that country fellow who used to drive us down to the beach at Haynton?”
“The very same; but he’s not a country fellow now. Upon my word, I shouldn’t have known him, if I hadn’t known he had been invited and would probably come. I was in terror lest he would come dressed as he did to our reception last week, and the girls would get over their admiration of his talk and tease _me_ about him. But you never in your life saw so splendid-looking a fellow,--you really didn’t. And he was very attentive to me: he had to be; I took possession of him from the first. He doesn’t dance, so I couldn’t keep him dangling, but I had him to myself wherever men could be most useful. Margie, what _are_ you looking so wooden about?”
“The idea!” said Margie, in a far-away voice, as if her thoughts were just starting back from some distant point. “That heavy, sober fellow becoming a city beau! It’s like Cinderella and the princess. Do pinch me, so I may be sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Margie,” whispered Lucia, suddenly seating herself on the bedside, and, instead of the desired pinch, burying her cheek on a pillow close against her sister’s shoulder, “after he had put me into the carriage he kissed my hand,--oh, ever so many times.”
“What could I? Before I could think at all, ’twas all over and he was in the house.”
“That country boy a flirt!” exclaimed Margie, going off into blankness again.