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Bluebell - A Novel by Mrs. George Croft Huddleston
page 30 of 430 (06%)
The time I've lost in wooing,
In watching and pursuing
The light that lies
In woman's eyes,
Has been my heart's undoing.
--Moore.


"Bluebell," said little Lola, bursting into the nursery, where Freddy,
rather a tyrant in his affections, had insisted on her singing him to
sleep, "Ma says you have got to dine down to-night, and Miss Prosody,

too. Won't she be in a way, for her white muslin never came home from the
wash, and she had begun altering the _barège_; so I asked Felda to tell
her," said Lola, diplomatically. "Do you know Bertie has come?" (His
nieces never prefaced his name with the formality of uncle.) "Oh of
course, you must have seen him at the Rink. Do you like him? He is sure
to like you, at first, at any rate," said Lola, who apparently, like
other lookers-on saw most of the game. "And don't tell, but I believe he
hates Miss Prosody."

"Why?" asked Bluebell, absently.

"Well, one day he was whispering to Cecil, with their heads very near
together. Miss Prosody was looking for a book in a recess behind the
door, close to them; but they never saw her till she moved away, and I
heard Bertie mutter something about an 'inquisitive old devil.' But don't
tell, mind. There's the bell; I must go to tea," _Exit_ Lola, and
Bluebell flew off with some alacrity to her bed-room to prepare.

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