“Not very well. He’s nice enough, but he’s been round all the time. He has been here every single day, and cousin Bess is always playing tennis or going rowing with him, when I want her to do something, and— Hullo! there goes one of your leaves.” And Rob carefully replaced it on the reddest part of Fred’s face.
“Well,” said Fred, “she’s always ready to do things for me. Mr. Muir is here ever so much, I know, and somebody has to entertain him; but Mrs. Rogers is generally busy, so I suppose Miss Bess has to do it.”
“I don’t think she minds much,” replied Rob grimly. “And last night, you know, I told you it was bright moonlight, and they were out on the piazza ever so long. After you went to sleep, I heard them. I don’t want him round in the way, and I am glad we are going home next week. And, you know, Fred, she always dresses up when he comes.”
“I don’t see what that’s for,” answered Fred loyally. “She’s always pretty enough.”
“Yes, I know,” said Rob loftily, from the height of his thirteen years’ experience of life
