One of those womanly intuitions which set mere man-logic at defiance was
come to whisper in Miss Bowlsby's ear that that slipper had performed
some part in Edward Lynde's untold summer experience.

"He was laughing at you, Mr. Preston; he was grossly imposing on your
unsophisticated innocence."

"Really? Is he as deep as that?"

"He is very deep," said Miss Bowlsby solemnly.

On his way home from the bank, one afternoon in that same week, Lynde
overtook Miss Mildred walking, and accompanied her a piece down the
street.

"Mr. Lynde, shall you go on another horseback excursion next summer?"
she asked, without prelude.

"I haven't decided; but I think not."

"Of course you ought to go."

"Why of course, Miss Mildred?"

"Why? Because--because--don't ask me!"

"But I do ask you."

"You insist?"