"They say she looks as I did at her age," thought the candid lady; "but
they must flatter me. My nose was never so straight as that: her nose
is Belding all over. I wonder whom she will care about here? Mr. Furrey
is a nice young man, but she is hardly polite to him. There he is now."
The young man came briskly up the walk, and ran up the steps so quickly
that he tripped on the last one and dropped his hat. He cleverly
recovered it, however, and made very elaborate bows to both the ladies,
hoping that he found them quite well. Mrs. Belding bustled about to
give him a chair, at which Alice knitted her pretty brows a little. She
had scarcely moved her eyelashes to greet her visitor; but when Mrs.
Belding placed a light chair near her daughter and invited Mr. Furrey
to take it, the young lady rose from her reclining attitude and sat
bolt upright with a look of freezing dignity. The youth was not at all
abashed, but took his seat, with his hat held lightly by the brim in
both hands. He was elegantly dressed, in as faithful and reverent an
imitation as home talent could produce of the costume of the gentlemen
who that year were driving coaches in New York.
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