morrow night."

"He will? Are you telling me the truth?"

"Why, Evelina Bunner!"

"Oh, I don't care!" cried the younger recklessly, rushing back
into the shop.

Ann Eliza stood burning with the shame of Evelina's self-
exposure. She was shocked that, even to her, Evelina should lay
bare the nakedness of her emotion; and she tried to turn her
thoughts from it as though its recollection made her a sharer in
her sister's debasement.

The next evening, Mr. Ramy reappeared, still somewhat sallow
and red-lidded, but otherwise his usual self. Ann Eliza consulted
him about the investment he had recommended, and after it had been
settled that he should attend to the matter for her he took up the
illustrated volume of Longfellow--for, as the sisters had learned,
his culture soared beyond the newspapers--and read aloud, with a
fine confusion of consonants, the poem on "Maidenhood." Evelina
lowered her lids while he read. It was a very beautiful evening,
and Ann Eliza thought afterward how different life might have been
with a companion who read poetry like Mr. Ramy.


VII