never walk with Allan in the afternoon? Nothing would
please him better--the boy is positively proud to have you."

"Oh, I had to finish this letter to Clara," Nancy answered abstractedly,
as if still intent upon her writing, debating a word with narrowed eyes
and pen-tip at her teeth.

But Aunt Bell was neither to be misunderstood nor insufficiently
answered.

"Not this afternoon, especially--_any_ afternoon. I can't remember when
you've walked with him. So many times I've heard you refuse--and I dare
say it doesn't please him, you know."

"Oh, he has often told me so."

"Well?"

"Aunt Bell--I--Oh, _you've_ walked on the street with Allan!"

"To be sure I have!"

"Well!"

"Well--of course--that _is_ true in a way--Allan _does_ attract
attention the moment he reaches the pavement--and of course every one
stares at one--but it isn't the poor fellow's fault. At least, if the
boy were at all conscious of it he might in very little ways here and
there prevent the very tiniest bit of it--but, my dear, your husband is
a man of most striking appearance--especially in the clerical garb--even
on that avenue over there where striking persons abound--and it's not to
be helped. And I can't wonder he's not pleased with you when it gives
him such pleasure to have a modish and handsome young woman at his side.
I met him the other day walking down from Forty-second Street with that
stunning-looking Mrs. Wyeth, and he looked as happy and bubbling as a
schoolboy."

"Oh--Aunt Bell--but of course, if you don't see, I couldn't possibly
tell you." She turned suddenly to her letter, as if to dismiss the
hopeless task.

Now Aunt Bell, being entirely human, would not keep silence under an
intimation that her powers of discernment were less than phenomenal. The
tone of her reply, therefore, hinted of much.

"My child--I may see and gather and understand much more than I give any
sign of."

It was a wretchedly empty boast. Doubtless it had never been true of
Aunt Bell at any time in her life, but she was nettled now: one must
present frowning fortifications at a point where one is attacked, even
if they be only of pasteboard. Then, too, a random claim to possess
hidden fruits of observation is often productive. Much reticence goes
down before it.

Nancy turned to her again with a kind of relief in her face.

"Oh, Aunt Bell, I was sure of it--I couldn't tell you, but I was sure
you must see!" Her pen was thrown aside and she