Mrs. Randolph departed to inform her son and
daughter of their guest's arrival. As a matter of fact, however, they
had already observed her approach to the house through the slits of
their drawn window-blinds, and those even narrower prejudices and
limited comprehensions which their education had fostered. The girl,
Adele, had only grasped the fact that Rose had come to their house in
fine clothes, alone with a man, in a broken-down vehicle, and was moved
to easy mirth and righteous wonder. The young man, Emile, had agreed
with her, with the mental reservation that the guest was pretty, and
must eventually fall in love with him. They both, however, welcomed her
with a trained politeness and a superficial attention that, while the
indifference of her own countrymen in the wheat-field was still fresh in
her recollection, struck her with grateful contrast; the major's quiet
and unobtrusive kindliness naturally made less impression, or was
accepted as a matter of course.
"Well," said the major, cheerfully but tentatively, to his wife when
they were alone again, "she seems a nice girl, after all; and a good
deal of pluck and character, by Jove! to push on in that broken buggy
rather than linger or come in a farm cart, eh?"
"She was alone in that wheat-field," said Mrs.
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