"Complexion!" said Belle; "I'm no more afraid of hurting my complexion than you are; I never freckle, or tan either."
"But you burn all up, and look like a fright."
"Well, if I didn't, I shouldn't go there to sit; I like to be at the front of the house, where I can see the passing. I wonder who those people are coming up the road."
Kitty stood up, and looked as Belle pointed. After observing the approaching couple for a minute or two she exclaimed, "Why, that's Gertrude Flint! I wonder where she's been! And who can that be with her? I didn't know there was a beau to be had about here."
"And why not a beau, Cousin Belle? I'm sure he looks like one."
"I wouldn't give much for any of her beaux!" said Belle.
"Wouldn't you?" said Kitty. "Wait until you see who they are; you near-sighted people shouldn't decide in such a hurry. I can tell you that he is a gentleman you wouldn't object to walking with yourself; it's Mr. Bruce, the one we met in New Orleans."
"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Belle, starting up.
"You will soon have a chance to see for yourself; for he is coming home with her."
"_He is!_ What can he be walking with her for?"
"To show his taste, perhaps. I am sure he could not find more agreeable company."
"You and I don't agree about that," replied Belle. "I don't see anything very agreeable about her."
"Because you are determined not to, Belle. Everybody else thinks her charming, and Mr. Bruce is opening the gate for her as politely as if she were a queen. I like him for that."
"Do see," said Belle; "she's got on that white cape-bonnet of hers! and that checked gingham dress! I wonder what Mr. Bruce thinks of her, and he such a critic in regard to ladies' dress."
Gertrude and her companion now drew near to the house. The former looked up, saw the young ladies in the doorway, and smiled pleasantly at Kitty, who was making strange grimaces and giving insignificant glances over Belle's shoulder; but Mr. Bruce did not observe either of them; and they heard him say, as he handed Gertrude a small parcel he had been carrying for her, "I believe I won't come in; it's such a bore to have to talk to strangers. Do you work in the garden, mornings, this summer?"
"No," replied Gertrude, "there is nothing left of my garden but the memory of it."
