Neil saw her, as did Blanche and many others, and a frown darkened his
face at this unlooked-for demonstration. Still he was struck with the
wonderful picture she made, with her strikingly beautiful face lit up
with excitement, and her bright, wavy hair gleaming in the sunlight, us
she stood with uncovered head waving to him, the fashionable Neil
McPherson, whom so many knew. His first impulse, naturally, was to lift
his hat in token of recognition, but something in his meaner nature
prompted him to take no notice, until Blanche said, in her most
supercilious tone:
"Who was that brazen-faced girl? Your cousin Bessie?"
"Yes, my cousin Bessie," Neil replied, and turned to make the bow he
should have made before.
But Bessie had disappeared, and was sitting again by her father,
adjusting her hat and hating herself for having been so foolish.
"Neil was angry, I know. I saw it in his face, and I was an idiot," she
thought, just as the stranger, who had watched the proceeding with a
highly amused expression around the corners of his mouth, said to her:
"You know Neil McPherson, then? You called him your cousin.
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