CHAPTER XX.
HOW MISS FANNY SLAMMED THE DOOR IN VERTY'S FACE.
As Redbud sat thus disconsolate, a footstep in the apartment attracted her attention, and raising her tearful eyes, she saw her friend Fanny, who had run in, laughing, as was her wont.

Fanny was a handsome little brunette, about Redbud's age, and full of merriment and glee--perhaps _sparkle_ would be the better word, inasmuch as this young lady always seemed to be upon the verge of laughter--brim full with it, and ready to overflow, like a goblet of Bohemian glass filled with the "foaming draught of eastern France," if we may be permitted to make so unworthy a comparison.

Her merry black eyes were now dancing, and her ebon curls rippled from her smooth dark brow like midnight waves.
"Oh! here's your beau, Reddy!" cried Miss Fanny, clapping her hands; "you pretended not to know him as he came up the hill.

Make haste! you never saw such an elegant cavalier as he has made himself!" Redbud only smiled sadly, and turned away her head.
Miss Fanny attributed this manoeuvre to a feeling very different from the real one; and clapping her hands more joyfully than ever, cried: "There you are! I believe you are going to pretend he ain't your beau! But you need not, madam.

As if I did'nt know all about it--" "Oh, Fanny!" murmured poor Redbud.
"Come! no secrets from me! That old Miss Lavinia has treated you badly, I know; I don't know how, but she made you cry, and I will not have anything to say to her, if she _is_ your cousin.