manner that astounded but at the same time filled him with admiration.
As he did not take his departure, being, in fact, unable to tear himself away, Nattie, in her anxiety to tell Cyn all that was in her mind, and reflecting that he really was of no consequence—an argument not flattering to its object, but one that he probably would have been first to indorse had he known it—and, moreover, that he already knew the prologue, disregarded his presence and said,
"The most incomprehensible thing has happened, Cyn! I cannot realize it even now!"
Quimby quaked in his boots, and grew hot all over with the fear that she was going to relate their last evening's adventure. Could it be possible?
"I knew that something was the matter the moment you entered the room," said Cyn. "I cannot imagine why you should look as if you were going into the grave-digging business!"
"Ah, Cyn!" exclaimed Nattie, as if the words hurt her, "He—'C,' called on me to-day!"
Quimby gave a bounce, and then grew limp in all his joints.
"Is it possible? Personally?" questioned Cyn, with great interest and animation; then glancing at Nattie's face, her tone changed as she added, "He was not what you thought! I understand, poor Nat!"
