"We must keep up appearances, you know; and
if we seem to be angry, you must remember we are only pretending."
Mr. Sharp, with a tender smile, said that he understood perfectly.
"And now I had better go," said Florrie, returning the smile. "Uncle
might see us together, or somebody else might see us and tell him.
Good-bye."
She shook hands and went off, stopping three times to turn and wave her
hand. In a state of bewildered delight Mr. Sharp continued his stroll,
rehearsing, as he went, the somewhat complicated and voluminous
instructions she had given him.
By Wednesday evening he was part-perfect, and, in a state of mind divided
between nervousness and exaltation, set out for Mr. Culpepper's. He
found that gentleman, dressed in his best, sitting in an easy-chair with
his hands folded over a fancy waistcoat of startling design, and, placing
a small box of small cigars on his knees, wished him the usual "Happy
Returns." The entrance of the ladies, who seemed as though they had just
come off the ice, interrupted Mr. Culpepper's thanks.
"Getting spoiled, that's what I am," he remarked, playfully. "See this
waistcoat? My old Aunt Elizabeth sent it this morning."
He leaned back in his chair and glanced down in warm approval.
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