"Oh, that's all right," he answered. "Don't you fret, Miss
Gunner. Folks have got to suit themselves." She thought his tone
had grown more resigned since she had spoken of her headaches.

For some moments he stood looking at her with a hesitating
eye, as though uncertain how to end their conversation; and at
length she found courage to say (in the words of a novel she had
once read): "I don't want this should make any difference between
us."

"Oh, my, no," said Mr. Ramy, absently picking up his hat.

"You'll come in just the same?" she continued, nerving herself
to the effort. "We'd miss you awfully if you didn't. Evelina,
she--" She paused, torn between her desire to turn his thoughts to
Evelina, and the dread of prematurely disclosing her sister's
secret.

"Don't Miss Evelina have no headaches?" Mr. Ramy suddenly
asked.

"My, no, never--well, not to speak of, anyway. She ain't had
one for ages, and when Evelina IS sick she won't never give
in to it," Ann Eliza declared, making some hurried adjustments with
her conscience.

"I wouldn't have thought that," said Mr. Ramy.

"I guess you don't know us as well as you thought you did."