d say to her that there are reasons why she
must not speak of your engagement to any body, not even to Hope Wayne.
And if she begins to pump you, tell her that it is the especial request
of the lady--whom you may call 'she,' you needn't say Hope--that no
question of any kind shall be asked, or the engagement may be broken.
Do you understand, dear?"

Fanny leaned toward him coaxingly as she asked the question.

"Oh yes, I understand," replied Alfred.

"And you'll do just as Fanny says, won't you, dear?" said she, even more
caressingly.

"Yes, I will, I promise," answered Alfred.

"You may kiss me, dear," said Fanny, leaning toward him, so that the
operation need not disarrange her toilet.

Alfred Dinks kept his word; and his mother was perfectly willing to do
as she was asked. She smiled with intelligence whenever she saw her son
and his cousin together, and remarked that Hope Wayne's demeanor did
not in the least betray the engagement. And she smiled with the same
intelligence when she remarked how devoted Alfred was to Fanny Newt.

"Can it possibly be that Alfred knows so much?" she asked herself,
wondering at the long time during which her son's cunning had lain
dormant.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE PORTRAIT AND THE MINIATURE.

The golden days of September glimmered through the dark sighing trees,
and relieved the white brightness that had burned upon the hills during
the dog-days. Mr. Burt drove into town and drove out. Dr. Peewee called
at short intervals, played backgammon with his parishioner, listened to
his stories, told stories of his own, and joined him in his little
excursions to the West Indies. Mrs. Simcoe was entirely alone.

One day Hiram brought her a letter, which she took to her own room and
sat down by the window to read.

"SARATOGA.

"DEAR AUNTY,--We're about going away, and we have been so gay that you
would suppose I had had 'society' enough. Do you remember our talk? There
have been a great many people here from every part of the country; and
it has been nothing but bowling, walking, riding, dancing, dining at the
lake, and listening to music in the moonlight, all the time. Aunt Dinks
has been very kind, but although I have met a great many people I have
not made many friends. I have seen nobody whom I like as much as Amy
Waring or Mr. Lawrence Newt, of whom I wrote you from New York, and they
have neither of them been here. I think of Pinewood a great deal, but it
seems to me long