"Thank you, Master Hamilton," answered Betty, laughing softly, and
bringing her dimples and teeth into fine display. With all her profound
respect for the high rank of her lady guests, Betty's smiles, while
waiting on handsome George, were of a far rarer quality than those given
to rank and station in the small dining room. In Hamilton's case, she
could not suppress the smile nor restrain the soft laugh incident to her
surprise. The warm glow in her eyes and her murmured words of modest
welcome came of their own accord, because she was kind of heart and as
bewitching a bit of humanity as one could possibly want to caress.
At different times I had imagined that Betty was in love with Hamilton,
and had suffered strange twinges of jealousy on account of my fear;
twinges that surprised and angered me, for my heart had no business going
astray after a barmaid. She had always been kind to me, with a shy
fluttering in her manner from which I should have taken comfort had she
not been freer and easier with Hamilton.
Betty's manner with me should have given me a hint of the way her heart
was tending, even at that early time, but Hamilton was so much more
likely to attract a woman than I, and his manner was so much more offhand
and dashing than mine that I thought it impossible for such a girl as
Betty to think twice of me while she might have been thinking of him. But
I was wrong, as will unfold later; wrong, greatly to my trouble and
surprise.
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