"He could do no less, since you looked at him so hard," replied the
sister gravely.

"But to me, Hannah, to me--just think of it! No one ever bowed to me
before, not even the negroes! and to think of him--Mr. Brudenell--bowing
to me--me!"

"I tell you he could do no less; he caught you looking at him; to have
continued staring you in the face would have been rude; to have turned
abruptly away would have been equally so; gentlemen are never guilty of
rudeness, and Mr. Brudenell is a gentleman; therefore he bowed to you,
as I believe he would have bowed to a colored girl even."

"Oh, but he smiled! he smiled so warmly and brightly, just for all the
world like the sun shining out, and as if, as if--"

"As if what, you little goose?"

"Well, then, as if he was pleased."

"It was because he was amused; he was laughing at you, you silly child!"

"Do you think so?" asked Nora, with a sudden change of tone from gay to
grave.

"I am quite sure of it, dear," replied the elder sister, speaking her
real opinion.

"Laughing at me," repeated Nora to herself, and she fell into thought.