seem very much surprised at it."

"Why should I be? Every girl is at the mercy of tattlers."

"Exactly," said Fanny. "They've had me engaged to I don't know how many
people. I suppose they'll doom Alfred Dinks to me next. You won't be
jealous, will you?"

"No," said Hope, "I'll congratulate him."

Fanny Newt could not see Hope Wayne's face, and her voice betrayed
nothing. She, in fact, knew no more than when she came in.

"Good-by, dear, _a ce soir!_" said she, as she sailed out of the room.

Hope lingered for some time at the window. Then she rang for candles, and
sat down to write a letter.

CHAPTER XXV.

A STATESMAN--AND STATESWOMAN.

In the same twilight Mrs. Dinks and Alfred sat together in her room.

"Alfred, my dear, I see that Bowdoin Beacon drives out your Cousin Hope
a good deal."

Mrs. Dinks arranged her cap-ribbon as if she were at present mainly
interested in that portion of her dress.

"Yes, a good deal," replied Mr. Alfred, in an uncertain tone, for he
always felt uncomfortably at the prospect of a conversation with his
mother.

"I am surprised he should do so," continued Mrs. Dinks, with
extraordinary languor, as if she should undoubtedly fall fast asleep
before the present interview terminated. And yet she was fully awake.

"Why shouldn't he drive her out if he wants to?" inquired Alfred.

"Now, Alfred, be careful. Don't expose yourself even to me. It is too hot
to be so absurd. I suppose there is some sort of honor left among young
men still, isn't there?"

And the languid mamma performed a very well-executed yawn.

"Honor? I suppose there is. What do you mean?" replied Alfred.

Mamma yawned again.

"How drowsy one does feel here! I am so sleepy! What was I saying? Oh I
remember. Perhaps, however, Mr. Beacon doesn't know. That is probably the
reason. He doesn't know. Well, in that case it is not so extraordinary.
But I should think he must have seen, or inferred, or heard. A man may
be very stupid; but he has no right to be so stupid as that. How many
glasses do you drink at the spring in the morning, Alfred? Not more than
six at the outside, I hope. Well, I believe I'll take a little nap."

She played with her cap string, somehow as if she were an angler playing
a fish. There is capital trouting at Saratoga--or was, thirty years ago.
You may see to this day a good many fish that were caught there, and with
every kind of line and bait.

Alfred bit again.

"I wish you