Unfortunately, Verty did not hear her; he was gazing at Redbud.

Fanny pouted, and tossed her head.  So she was not good enough for the elegant Mr. Verty!—­she was not even worth a reply!  He might talk himself, then!

Verty did not embrace this tacit permission—­he remained silent; and gazing on Redbud, whose color began slowly to rise, as with heaving bosom and down-cast eyes she felt the young man’s look—­he experienced more and more embarrassment—­a sentiment which began to give way to distress.

At last he rose, and going to her side, took her hand.

Redbud slowly drew it away, still without meeting his gaze.

He asked, in a low voice, if she was angry with him.

No—­she was not very well to-day; that was all.

And then the long lashes drooped still more with the heavy drops which weighed them down; the cheeks were covered with a deeper crimson; the slender frame became still more agitated.  Oh! nothing but those words—­“if you would prevent him from suffering”—­could bear her through this trying interview:  they were enough, however—­she would be strong.

And as she came to this determination, Redbud nearly sobbed—­the full cup very nearly ran over with its freight of tears.  With a beseeching, pleading glance, she appealed to Fanny to come to her assistance.

Such an appeal is never in vain; the free-masonry of the sex has no unworthy members.  Fanny forgot in a moment her “miff” with Verty, when she saw that for some reason Redbud was very nearly ready to burst into tears, and wished to have the young man’s attention called away from her; she no longer remembered the slight to herself, which had made her toss her head, and vow that she would not open her lips again; she came to the rescue, as women always do, and with the most winning smile, demanded of Mr. Verty whether he would be so kind as to do her a slight favor?

The young man sighed, and moved his head indifferently.  Fanny did not choose to see the expression, and positively beaming with smiles, all directed, like a sheaf of arrows, full upon the gentleman, pushed the point of her slipper from the skirt of her dress, and said she would be exceedingly obliged to Mr. Verty, if he would fasten the ribbon which had become loose.

Of course, Verty had to comply.  He rose, sighing more than ever, and crossing the room, knelt down to secure the rebellious ribbon.

No sooner had he knelt, than Miss Fanny made a movement which attracted Redbud’s attention.  Their eyes met, and Fanny saw that her friend was almost exhausted with emotion.  The impulsive girl’s eyes filled as she looked at Redbud; with a smile, however, and with the rapidity and skill of young ladies at public schools, she spelled something upon her fingers, grazing as she went through the quick motions, the head of Verty, who was bending over the slipper.

Fanny had said, in this sly way:  “Say you are sick—­indeed you are!—­you’ll cry!”