"He is not a prisoner, at least we don't call him so," retorted Betsy indignantly, "and he is writing books."
"Oh, I suppose you know best, but if you cannot be obliging, I shall be mortified when I go home to say that I did not see him. I heard you knew him so well, that I supposed you wouldn't mind introducing me."
Thus put on her mettle, Betsy yielded against her better judgment and went down to the arbor.
At first there was no answer to her knock. Napoleon had fallen asleep over his papers. At last she succeeded in arousing him. "What do you want?" he asked rather gruffly as he came to the little door.
"Let me in, and you will know."
"No, tell me first what you want and then I will let you in."
Betsy was not so sure of this, but since she could not help it, she had to explain her errand.
"I wish to introduce a young lady to you."
"Oh, no, indeed; I am not well."
"But she will be so disappointed,—and she is so pretty."
