"You are doing nothing, Mr. Hall," said she presently, "so do come here, I want my skein of wool held."
Mr. Hall did not like the dictatorial manner in which this was said; still, having no excuse to offer, he advanced.
"Pray bring a chair and sit down. How can I wind it, with you towering above me in that way."
"I am tired of sitting," replied Mr. Hall, mildly resenting this speech, "so will stand if you will allow me."
"I should never have supposed you tired of sitting, after the hedges I saw you scrambling through with Anne Bennet."
Mr. Hall coughed uncomfortably. "I enjoyed my walk and am accustomed to the country. It would be well if all young ladies were as active as Miss Bennet."
"The former, certainly. I see nothing of the latter about her," replied he rather decidedly.
"How strange! Everybody else does. I suppose you will not attempt to deny she is a very _fast_ girl."
"I am not sufficiently acquainted with Miss Bennet to be able to form, or rather give an opinion as to her character; most young ladies of the present day are _fast_, and perhaps your friend is not an exception to the general rule."
"Pray do not call her my friend. I am unlike the generality of girls in that respect, and am hand and glove with no one."
"I pity you, Miss Strickland," replied Mr. Hall.
"Reserve your commiseration," she said proudly, "for those who require it. I should dislike having a friend even as active and _fast_ as Miss Bennet, who, according to your idea," said Frances sarcastically, "should have been born a grade lower in life; a housemaid for instance; no amount of hard work would have been too much for her."
"She would have struggled bravely through it all, I make no doubt," replied he. "I have no mean opinion of Miss Anne's courage."
"Or have worked herself into a consumption, and so become a heroine, as she appears to be already in your estimation. Pray take care, Mr. Hall, you have let half a dozen threads drop off your fingers. How excessively careless!"
"Yes. I do not understand holding it; excuse me," and he laid the tangled mass in her lap.
Was he as stupid as Anne pictured him; or would she, as Julia said, some day find out her mistake.
"What hopeless confusion, Miss Strickland," said Mr. Vavasour, advancing a step, as he passed by. "Is this your doing, Hall?" and he laughed, while Frances's eyes flashed with mortification and anger.