“S. P.” AND THE BARON.
DINNER was over, and the _salon_ deserted by all but the two young
ladies, who sat apart, apparently absorbed in novels, while each was
privately longing for somebody to come, and with the charming
inconsistency of the fair sex, planning to fly if certain somebodies did
appear.
Steps approached; both buried themselves in their books; both held their
breath and felt their hearts flutter as they never had done before at
the step of mortal man. The door opened; neither looked up, yet each was
conscious of mingled disappointment and relief when the major said, in a
grave tone, “Girls, I’ve something to tell you.”
“We know what it is, sir,” returned Helen, coolly.
“I beg your pardon, but you don’t, my dear, as I will prove in five
minutes, if you will give me your attention.”
The major looked as if braced up to some momentous undertaking; and
planting himself before the two young ladies, dashed bravely into the
subject.
“Girls, I’ve played a bold game, but I’ve won it, and will take the
consequences.”
“They will fall heaviest on you, uncle,” said Helen, thinking he was
about to declare his love for the widow.