The professor restlessly altered the position of his legs, thereby
drawing his daughter's attention once more to himself. Thinking she had
waited as long as was requisite for the maintenance of her dignity as a
non-inquisitive person, she transferred herself lightly to the arm of
her father's chair, grasping his beard in her plump, slender hand, and
turned his face up toward hers.
"Well, papa! aren't you going to tell what the news is? Is it nice?"
"Very nice!" said papa, taking her irreverent hand into his own, and
keeping it there. "At least you will think so," he added, looking half
playful and half wistful.
Cornelia brought her lips into a pout, all ready to say, "what?" but did
not say it, and gazed at her father with round, interrogating eyes.
"You'd be very glad to go away and leave me, of course," continued the
professor, assuming an air of studied unconcern.
"Papa!" exclaimed the young lady, with an emphatic intonation of
affection, indignation, and bewilderment.
"What! not be glad to go to New York, and to all the fashionable
watering-places, and be introduced to all the best society?" queried the
old gentleman, in hypocritical astonishment.
"Papa!" again exclaimed the young lady; but this time in a tone which
the tumult of delight, anticipation, and a fear lest there should be a
mistake somewhere, softened almost into a whisper.
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