"She wished me to say good-by to you for her, as she couldn't come on
the veranda in her old shawl and sun-bonnet," added Louise, who had
joined them. "What do you really think of her, Mr. Mainwaring? I call
her quite pretty, at times. Don't you?"

Mainwaring knew not what to say. He could not understand why they
could have any special interest in the girl, or care to know what he, a
perfect stranger, thought of her. He avoided a direct reply, however, by
playfully wondering how Mrs. Bradley could subject her husband to Miss
Minty's undivided fascinations.

"Oh, Jim always takes her home--if it's in the evening. He gets along
with these people better than we do," returned Mrs. Bradley,
dryly. "But," she added, with a return of her piquant Quaker-like
coquettishness, "Jim says we are to devote ourselves to you to-night--in
retaliation, I suppose. We are to amuse you, and not let you get
excited; and you are to be sent to bed early."

It is to be feared that these latter wise precautions--invaluable for
all defenceless and enfeebled humanity--were not carried out: and it
was late when Mainwaring eventually retired, with brightened eyes and a
somewhat accelerated pulse. For the ladies, who had quite regained that
kindly equanimity which Minty had rudely interrupted, had also added
a delicate and confidential sympathy in their relations with
Mainwaring,--as of people who had suffered in common,--and he
experienced these tender attentions at their hands which any two women
are emboldened by each other's saving presence to show any single member
of our sex. Indeed, he hardly knew if his satisfaction was the more
complete when Mrs. Bradley, withdrawing for a few moments, left him
alone on the veranda with Louise and the vast, omnipotent night.