"He looked so sheepish when I mentioned my daughters. Doubtless he had
heard of you, Miss Doll, and of your dangerous wiles."
She pinched his ear. They were excellent friends, were father and
eldest daughter. Mr. Driver, a scholar and a man of letters, who had
been thankful to exchange an uncertain footing upon the lower rungs of
the ladder of literature for a small post under Government, had for
years devoted his talents to the education of the children. In Dolly,
as his most apt pupil, he took a peculiar pride.
"Come in, doctor!" cried Mr. Driver that night. "We are all dying, but
only to make your acquaintance."
The new visitor was checked at the very threshold by Dolly's cry--
"Mr. Purling!"
And Harold stood confessed to his cousins without a chance of further
disguise.
"Cousin Harold, you mean," he said, as he offered Dolly his hand.
She tried hard to hide her blushes; and then and there Mrs. Driver,
after the manner of mothers, built up a great castle in the air, which
her husband shook instantly to its foundations by asking
unceremoniously and not without a shade of angry suspicion in his
tone--
"Why did you not claim relationship this morning?"
He disliked the notion of a man stealing into his house under false
colours.
"I waited for you to speak.
Pages:
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447