‚ÄúNo‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI‚Äôm sorry. Miss Smith is engaged this morning. I am Miss Taylor.‚Äù
‚ÄúI cannot share Miss Taylor‚Äôs sorrow,‚Äù returned Mr. ¬ÝCresswell gravely, ‚Äúfor I believe I have the honor of some correspondence with Miss Taylor‚Äôs brother.‚Äù Mr. ¬ÝCresswell searched for the letter, but did not find it.
‚ÄúOh! Has John written you?‚Äù She beamed suddenly. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm so glad. It‚Äôs more than he‚Äôs done for me this three-month. I beg your pardon‚ÅÝ‚Äîdo sit down‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI think you‚Äôll find this one easier. Our stock of chairs is limited.‚Äù
It was delightful to have a casual meeting receive this social stamp; the girl was all at once transfigured‚ÅÝ‚Äîanimated, glowing, lovely; all of which did not escape the caller‚Äôs appraising inspection.
‚ÄúThere!‚Äù said Mr. ¬ÝCresswell. ‚ÄúI‚Äôve left your gate gaping.‚Äù
‚ÄúOh, don‚Äôt mind‚ÅÝ‚Ää‚Å݂Ķ I hope John‚Äôs well?‚Äù
‚ÄúThe truth is,‚Äù confessed Cresswell, ‚Äúit was a business matter‚ÅÝ‚Äîcotton, you know.‚Äù
“John is nothing but cotton; I tell him his soul is fibrous.”
“He mentioned your being here and I thought I’d drop over and welcome you to the South.”
“Thank you,” returned Miss Taylor, reddening with pleasure despite herself. There was a real sincerity in the tone. All this confirmed so many convictions of hers.
“Of course, you know how it is in the South,” Cresswell pursued, the opening having been so easily accomplished.