I don't; I am happier at home. But men don't
want to keep at home."
"_Already_, Bessie!" cried Harry in a rallying, reproachful tone.
"Already _what_, Harry? I am not giving myself airs, if that is what you
mean," said she blushing.
Harry shook his head, but only half in earnest: "You are, Bessie. You
are pretending to have opinions on things that you had never thought of
a month ago. Give you a year amongst your grandees, and you will hold
yourself above us all."
Tears filled Bessie's eyes. She was very much hurt; she did not believe
that Harry could have misunderstood her so. "I shall never hold myself
above anybody that I was fond of when I was little; they are more likely
to forget me when I am out of sight. They have others to love." Bessie
spoke in haste and excitement. She meant neither to defend herself nor
to complain, but her voice imported a little pathos and tragedy into the
scene. Young Musgrave instantly repented and offered atonement.
"Besides," Bessie rather inconsequently ran on, "I am very fond of Lady
Latimer; she has nobody of her own, so she tries to make a family in the
world at large."
"All right, Bessie--then she shall adopt you. Only don't be cross,
little goosey. Let us go into the garden." Young Musgrave made such a
burlesque of his remorse that Bessie, wounded but skin-deep, was fain to
laugh too and be friends again. And thereupon they went forth together
into the bosky old garden.
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