he had the air of an entomologist intent upon classifying a specimen,
but finally he appeared to become pessimistic. He shook his head
solemnly; then gazed again and shook his head again, and continued
to shake it slowly, in complete disapproval.

"You certainly are one horrible sight!" he said, aloud.

And at that he was instantly aware of an observer. Turning quickly,
he was vouchsafed the picture of a charming lady, framed in a rustic
aperture of the "summer-house" and staring full into his window--
straight into his eyes, too, for the infinitesimal fraction of
a second before the flashingly censorious withdrawal of her own.
Composedly, she pulled several dead twigs from a vine, the manner
of her action conveying a message or proclamation to the effect that
she was in the summer-house for the sole purpose of such-like pruning
and tending, and that no gentleman could suppose her presence there
to be due to any other purpose whatsoever, or that, being there on
that account, she had allowed her attention to wander for one instant
in the direction of things of which she was in reality unconscious.

Having pulled enough twigs to emphasize her unconsciousness--and
at the same time her disapproval--of everything in the nature of
a Sheridan or belonging to a Sheridan, she descended the knoll with
maintained composure, and sauntered toward a side-door of the country
mansion of the Vertreeses. An elderly lady, bonneted and cloaked,
opened the door and came to meet her.

"Are you ready, Mary? I've been looking for you. What were you
doing?"