But, for all that, as she realized what she had
been thinking about, and how very far her papa or Sophie would be from
laughing if they were told about it, she felt her cheeks tingle, and
could not be busy enough with that boot-lace!
There! that was off; now for the other. What a queer man he was, though!
Could all that have been put on in the garden--pretending he didn't
know! (This was such a tiresome old knot!) If she only hadn't been such
a goose and laughed--what must he think? What could have been the reason
he rushed off in such a hurry? Probably was afraid she'd tell papa, and
then he couldn't be his pupil. Suppose she should tell! that would be
mean, though. Perhaps he didn't intend it, after all. He seemed nice in
some ways, though he was so queer. Very likely it was only a sort of
spasm--an electric, magnetic thing--she had heard of something of the
sort. Yes, and she had felt funny herself that evening--a numb, quivery,
prickly kind of sensation: it may have been the thunder-storm! It was
strange, though; she never remembered to have felt it before. She
wondered whether Mr. Bressant ever had. Perhaps deaf people were more
subject to it. What a pity he should be deaf! It made it so awfully
embarrassing to talk to him sometimes.
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