"Yes."
"Don't go, Augusta."
"Why?"
"Because I want to talk to you."
"You can talk when I come back."
"I want to talk now; please sit down."
She made no motion to do so.
"What's the matter with you, Augusta?"
"Nothing,"--her face was sullen--"only I don't like to be ordered
about."
"I'm not ordering you, as you put it, but I've a surprise for you and I
want to tell you of it."
For answer she looked at him inquiringly.
"We're going to Chicago to-morrow."
Instead of the pleasure which he anticipated would light her dark eyes,
there was a look rather of apprehension, of disapproval, of anything, in
fact, but delight.
"Aren't you _glad_?" he asked in amazement.
"I'm not ready; I've no clothes."
"We can soon remedy that."