"Oh, Ralph!" she exclaimed, "you do not know what a nice woman she is.
She is just like an old family nurse." And then she ran out to catch the
doctor, and talk to him about Cicely.
"Your sister is a child yet," remarked Mrs. Tolbridge, with a smile.
"Indeed she is," said Ralph; "and she longs for what she never
had--old family servants, household ties, and all that sort of thing.
And I believe she would prefer a good old Southern mammy to a fine
young lover."
"Of course she would," said Mrs. Tolbridge. "That would be natural to any
girl of her age, except, perhaps," she added, "one like Dora Bannister. I
believe she was in love when she was fifteen."
It seemed strange to Ralph that the mention of a thing of this sort,
which must have happened three or four years ago, and to a lady whom he
had known a very short time, should send a little pang of jealousy
through his heart, but such was the fact.
There were picnic meals at Cobhurst that day; for La Fleur was not to
arrive until the morrow, and they were all very jolly.
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