not stand him any longer."

"David! you forget yourself."

"There--now you are offended; I know you are, when you draw yourself up
in that way, my dear little auntie. But just hear me. You are such an
innocent woman, you don't know the world as men do. Can't you see--no,
of course you can't--that very soon all St. Andrews will be talking about
you?"

"About me?"

"Not about you exactly, but about the family. A single man--a marrying
man, as all the world says he is, or ought to be, with his money--can not
go in and out, like a tame cat, in a household of women, without having,
or being supposed to have--ahem!--intentions. I assure you"--and he
swung himself on the arm of her chair, and looked into her face with an
angry earnestness quite unmistakable--"I assure you, I never go into the
club without being asked, twenty times a day, which of the Miss Moseleys
Mr. Roy is going to marry."

"Which of the Miss Moseleys Mr. Roy is going to marry!"

She repeated the words, as if to gain time and to be certain she heard
them rightly. No fear of her blushing now; every pulse in her heart
stood dead still; and then she nerved herself to meet the necessity of
the occasion.

"David, you surely do not consider what you are saying. This is a most
extraordinary idea."

"It is a most extraordinary idea; in fact, I call it ridiculous,
monstrous: an old battered fellow like him, who has knocked about the
world, Heaven knows where, all these years, to come home, and, because he
has got a lot of money, think to go and marry one of these nice, pretty
girls. They wouldn't have him, I believe that; but nobody else believes
it; and every body seems to think it the most natural thing possible.
What do you say?"

"I?"

"Surely you don't think it right, or even possible? But, Auntie, it
might turn out a rather awkward affair, and you ought to take my advice,
and stop it in time."

"How?"

"Why, by stepping him out of the house. You and he are great friends: if
he had any notion of marrying, I suppose he would mention it to you--he
ought. It would be a cowardly trick to come and steal one of your
chickens from under your wing. Wouldn't it? Do say something, instead
of merely echoing what I say. It really is a serious matter, though you
don't think so."

"Yes, I do think so," said Miss Williams, at last; "and I would stop it
if I thought I had any right. But Mr. Roy is quite able to manage his
own affairs; and he is