"And you didn't come out till that last train ?" "No." "I should think you would be tired to death, and you don't look any too chipper." Maud turned and stared at Wollaston, who was standing aloof.

"I declare, he looks as if he had been up a week of Sundays, too," said she.

Then she called out to him, in her high-pitched treble, which sounded odd coming from her soft circumference of throat.

Maud's voice ought, by good rights, to have been a rich, husky drone, instead of bearing a resemblance to a parrot's.

"Say, Wollaston Lee," she called out, and the boy approached perforce, lifting his hat--"say," said Maud, "I hear you and Maria eloped last night." Then she giggled.
The boy cast a glance of mistrust and doubt at Maria.