dear aunt," was my reply, for my conscience smote me
hard. "I won't go; I don't care about it; I had much rather stay and
nurse you here."

But Aunt Deborah wouldn't hear of it.

"No, no," said she, "my dear; you are at the right age to enjoy
yourself. I don't know much about Scamperley, and I have a far more
charitable opinion of Lady Scapegrace than the world in general; but I
dare say you will have a pleasant party, and I can trust you anywhere
with John."

There it was, John again--always John--and I knew exactly what John
thought of me; and it made me thoroughly despise myself. I reflected
that if I were John, I should have a very poor opinion of my cousin; I
should consider her silly, vacillating, easily deceived, and by no
means to be depended upon; more than woman in her weaknesses, and less
than woman in her affections. "What a character! and what a contempt
he must have for me!"

My cousin called to take me to the railway, and to accompany me as a
chaperon on a visit to Sir Guy and Lady Scapegrace, who were, as
usual, "entertaining a distinguished party of fashionables at their
residence, Scamperley." By the way, what an odd phrase that same
"entertaining" always sounds to my ear. When I learn that the Marquis
of Mopes has been "entertaining" his friends, the Duke of Drearyshire,
Count and Countess Crotchet, Viscount Inane, Sir Simon and Lady
Sulkes, the Honourable Hercules Heavyhead, etc., etc., at his splendid
seat, Boudoir Castle, I cannot refrain from picturing to myself the
dignified host standing on his bald head for the amusement of his
immovable visitors, or otherwise, forgetful of his usual staid
demeanour, performing ludicrous antics, projecting disrespectful
"larks," to woo a smile from those stolid countenances in vain! Sir
Guy might be "entertaining," too, in this way, but hardly in any
other. What a disagreeable man he was! although I could not help
acknowledging his good nature in coming to fetch us from the station
himself.

As we emerged from the railway carriage, the first object that greeted
my eyes was Sir Guy's great gaudy drag, with its three piebalds and a
roan. The first tones that smote on my ear were those of his hoarse
harsh voice (how it jarred upon my nerves!) in loud obstreperous
welcome.

"Thought you'd come by this train, Miss Coventry," shouted Sir Guy
from the box, without making the slightest demonstration of
descending; "laid Frank five to two on the event.--Done hi