We could always make papa take us out for a walk
or a drive by whispering it to him."
"I can never bear to look at those pictures of by-gone fashions,"
said the Old Maid, "I see the by-gone people in them, and it makes
me feel as though the faces that we love are only passing fashions
with the rest. We wear them for a little while upon our hearts,
and think so much of them, and then there comes a time when we lay
them by, and forget them, and newer faces take their place, and we
are satisfied. It seems so sad."
"I wrote a story some years ago," remarked the Minor Poet, "about a
young Swiss guide, who was betrothed to a laughing little French
peasant girl."
"Named Suzette," interrupted the Girton Girl. "I know her. Go
on."
"Named Jeanne," corrected the Poet, "the majority of laughing
French girls, in fiction, are named Suzette, I am well aware. But
this girl's mother's family was English. She was christened Jeanne
after an aunt Jane, who lived in Birmingham, and from whom she had
expectations."
"I beg your pardon," apologised the Girton Girl, "I was not aware
of that fact. What happened to her?"
"One morning, a few days before the date fixed for the wedding,"
said the Minor Poet, "she started off to pay a visit to a relative
living in the village, the other side of the mountain.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267