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But here her voice broke, and deeply ashamed of herself, she hurried into the house to put her things together. The kind Merryweathers went with her, and vied with each other in helping her make her preparations.
Merryweather," said Hildegarde, her cheeks burning, but her voice quiet and courteous, "this is Margaret Everton, an old school-mate of mine. Mrs. Merryweather, Madge, with whom I am staying. Miss Merryweather, Professor Merryweather, Miss Everton." "Oh, hum mum-m-m-m-m-m!" said Madge, or something that sounded like it. The Merryweathers welcomed her courteously, and Mrs.
He did not join the family that evening, and the next day I left the Merryweathers. 'I do not know how it was, but when I returned home, I thought more of this young man than of any one else. Although my sister and myself were surrounded by men of a very different, and I may say, superior class, still he haunted me very much, for a time at least.
"Oh, how jolly you all look!" cried Hildegarde, peeping through the hedge. "Where are you going?" The Merryweathers were going to ride; so much was evident. Five bicycles stood at the door, glittering in the sunlight; five riders were in the act of mounting, plainly bound on a pleasure- trip. "Only for the mail, and a little spin after it," cried Mr. Merryweather.
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