you."

"Oh, it's not that!" protested young Nisbet with that stupendous
earnestness which made people want to hug him. "Why, Mrs. Wynyard would
have me talked to a standstill in two or seven minutes! Imagine me
trying to make love to a dame like that! She'd lose me so quick you
couldn't see me for the dust. Besides"--

"Besides what?" asked Dorothy with an elaborate air of unconcern, as he
hesitated.

Young Nisbet was quite crimson now, and twitched at the creases in his
trousers where they passed over his knees, and turned in his toes
excessively.

"There's somebody else in the running!" he blurted out desperately.

There! It was out--a part of it, at least--not at all, to be sure, in
anything even remotely resembling one of the thousand manners he had
proposed to himself as effective, during long hours of wakefulness, when
there was nothing in the world but his crowding thoughts and the ticking
of his clock--but still, out! The ice was broken. It was impossible that
she should not understand. The rest would be easier.

Alas for young Nisbet! He was, as he himself acknowledged, not "up on
women!"

"Somebody else?" repeated Dorothy. "How ever did you find that out? She
only told _me_ about it twenty minutes ago."

Alas, alas, for young Nisbet! He had thought his feet upon the beach at
last, whereas they had but touched a sand-bar in passing over. The
under-tow of embarrassment was worse than ever now, and threatened to
drag him down.

"Oh, I don't mean Mrs. Wynyard. I wasn't talking of her--that is, I was,
at first--but afterwards--anyhow, I'm not talking of her now! When I say
there's somebody else, I mean--I mean"--

"I am going out for a moment, Dorothy--just over to the _doctor's_.
_How_ de do, Mr. Nisbet? _Wretched_ weather, _isn't_ it? Natalie's with
your father, my dear, and _I'll_ be back _almost_ immediately.
Er--_ahem_!"

Mrs. Rathbawne went through a kind of rudimentary calisthenic exercise,
which consisted of squaring her shoulders and drawing in her chin. It
was accompanied by a meaning glance at her daughter, and was designed as
an inconspicuous substitute for the frank injunction to "sit up
straight, my dear," upon which Dorothy had finally placed a ban.

"And _won't_ you feed the gold-fish, my dear?" she added. "I've been _so_
occupied, and the poor things haven't had a _crumb_ for three days. I've
just told Thomas to take a plate of bread in at _once_. I'm sure Mr.
_Nisbet_ won't mind: g