"I'm quite shocked at you—you're just as angry, and distant, and cold as he is: and I'm determined you shall be as good friends as ever, before you go."
"Esther, how can you be so rude!" cried Mrs. Hargrave, who was seated gravely knitting in her easy chair. "Surely, you never will learn to conduct yourself like a lady!"
"Well mamma, you said, yourself—" But the young lady was silenced by the uplifted finger of her mamma, accompanied with a very stern shake of the head.
"Isn't she cross?" whispered she to me; but, before I could add my share of reproof, Mr. Hargrave reappeared at the window with a beautiful moss rose in his hand.
"Here, Esther, I've brought you the rose," said he, extending it towards her.
"Give it her yourself, you blockhead?" cried she, recoiling with a spring from between us.
"Mrs. Huntingdon would rather receive it from you," replied he in a very serious tone,
