"Min!" I exclaimed, "can you, will you, excuse and forgive me for
acting so rudely last night? I cannot forgive myself; and I shall be
miserable till you pardon me!"
She looked down gravely a minute.
"What made you so naughty, sir?" she asked at length, looking up again
with a dancing light in the clear grey eyes, and a smile on her pretty
little mouth.
"I thought that you did not want me, Min; and I wished myself away, when
I saw you speaking to every one else that came, as if you did not care
to speak to me. I was very unhappy, and--"
"Oh, Frank!" she said; "unhappy!"
"Yes," I said, "I was never more so in my life. I believed you
preferred speaking to Mr Mawley and Horner, to talking to me, and I
thought it very unkind of you."
"Well, do not think so again, sir," she said, with such a pretty
affectation of sternness, and laughing one of her light, silvery laughs.
"And you did not wish me away?" I asked, anxiously.
"Of course not," she answered. "Why should I have done so? You would
not have been invited, sir, if your noble presence had not been wished
for, Master Frank."
"And you didn't care so much for Mawley after all?" I continued,
rendered bolder by her changed manner.
"You must not ask too many questions, sir!" she said. "This just shows
how very unreasonable you were! How could I have neglected everybody
else to speak to you, only, all the evening; what would they have
thought, sir? what would mamma have said? Besides, you were not very
entertaining, Master Frank; you were very cross, sir; you know you
were!"
"But you forgive me now, Min, don't you?" I implored.
"Yes," she said, "if you promise never to be cross with me again."
"What, cross with _you_?" I exclaimed.
"You were, though, last night," she said, with a little toss of her
well-shaped head.
I thought the time had now arrived for making my little peace-offering;
and yet, I felt as shy and nervous about it as did poor "Young John,"
the gaoler's son of the Marshalsea, when he went to call on Little
Dorrit's father in the grand Bond Street hotel, and drew his humble
present of a bundle of cigars from his coat-pocket.
"Min," I said, "you have heard me speak of a clever little bird I had--
Dicky Chips?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "You mean the nice little fellow you taught to do
so many funny things? Nothing has happened to him, I hope, Frank? I
should be so very sorry," she added, sympathisingly, "for I know you are
very fond of him."
"No," said I hesitatingly; "nothing has happened to him, exactly; that
is, Min, I have brought him over for you; and, unless you accept him, I
shall think you are still angry with me, and have not forgiven me."
I thereupon pulled the little chap, cage and all, out of my pocket, and
presented him to her.
"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, in her sweet, earnest accents, with a ring
of emotion in them. "He's such a little pet of yours; and you have had
him so long! I would not take him from you for the world!"
"Then," said I, just as earnestly, "you have not forgiven me. Oh, Min!
when you promised to do so!" And I took up my hat as if to go away.
We argued the point; but, the end of the matter was, that Dicky Chips
was made over to his new mistress, with all his goods, chattels, and
appurtenances. A happy bird he might consider himself henceforth, I
knew. He would be idolised--a very nice situation, indeed, for a
bullfinch!
By-and-by I got closer to Min, as we were standing up, talking together
and making Dicky go through a few of his tricks on the drawing-room
table.
"Min," said I, softly, bending over her and looking down into her
honest, truth-telling grey eyes--"my darling!"
But, at that precise moment, the door opened; and, in walked Mrs Clyde.