" The room was only lit by the flame of the
candle Mrs. Day held, but there was light enough to show the blushes on
Bessie's young plump cheeks. "Mama, he has said something about _that_
again. _You_ know."
"About his being engaged to you?"
Bessie, cheeks and eyes aglow and alight, ecstatically nodded; her fair
bosom in its garniture of white tulle and forget-me-nots, rose and fell.
"What two pretty daughters I have!" Mrs. Day said to herself, and, being a
devout woman, gave thanks accordingly.
"Well, dear, and what did you say?"
"I said--I don't know what I said, mama. We were dancing that last
galop--the Orlando Furioso one, you know--and the room was so full, and
other couples were rushing down upon us--people are so horribly selfish
when they dance, and some of them dance so boisterously."
"It would be a very nice engagement for you, Bessie. I suppose there was
not a girl here to-night who would not gladly take him."
"I know that. I know that, mama. So does he--Reggie."
"He did not say so, I hope?"
"No. Reggie does not always want exactly to _say_ things."
"But what did he say to you, dear? Is the matter any forwarder than it was
the last time you spoke of it to me?"
"Well, I suppose so, mama.
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