"You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy still, somehow. But
it _would_ have been hard if I might not even speak to you. Would it
not?"
"Yes," said the young lady, but after some hesitation, and only in a
whisper.
"I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you out but once."
No reply to this little feeler.
Then, at last, Compton was discouraged, partly by her beauty and size,
partly by her taciturnity.
He was silent in return, and so, in a state of mutual constraint, they
reached the gate of Highmore.
"Good-by," said Compton reluctantly.
"Good-by,"
"Won't you shake hands?"
She blushed, and put out her hand halfway. He took it and shook it, and
so they parted.
Compton said to his mother disconsolately, "Mamma, it is all over. I
have seen her, and spoken to her; but she has gone off dreadfully."
"Why, what is the matter?"
"She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She has
not a word to say to a fellow."
"Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young lady
now."
"Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the bright
little darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid,
dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma."
"Indeed! She has made use of her time.
Pages:
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493