"How good of him to come to us again!" said Mary. "What will he
read to us?"
"Most likely something out of a book you never heard of before,
and can't remember the name of when you have heard it--at least
that's the way with me. I wonder if he will talk to you, Mary? I
should like to hear how Cousin Godfrey talks to girls."
"Why, you know how he talks to you," said Mary.
"Oh, but I am only Cousin Letty! He can talk anyhow to me."
"By your own account he talks to you in the best possible way."
"Yes; I dare say; but--"
"But what?"
"I can't help wishing sometimes he would talk a little nonsense.
It would be such a relief. I am sure I should understand better
if he would. I shouldn't be so frightened at him then."
"The way I generally hear gentlemen talk to girls makes me
ashamed--makes me feel as if I must ask, 'Is it that you are a
fool, or that you take that girl for one?' They never talk so to
me."
Letty sat pulling a jonquil to pieces. She looked up. Her eyes
were full of thought, but she paused a long time before she
spoke, and, when she did, it was only to say:
"I fear, Mary, I should take any man for a fool who took me for
anything else."
Letty was a rather small and rather freckled girl, with the
daintiest of rounded figures, a good forehead, and fine clear
brown eyes. Her mouth was not pretty, except when she smiled--and
she did not smile often.
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