ed
in a hurry to some girl he doesn't really care about, and he is far too
much of a gentleman to break it off, though he's in love quite another
way with Daphne."

Just at that moment the door opened and my aunt entered.

"Why, where's Daphne?" she cried, looking about her and arranging her
black lace shawl.

"She has just run out into Westbourne Grove to get some gloves and
a flower for the fete this evening," Hilda answered. Then she added,
significantly, "Mr. Holsworthy has gone with her."

"What? That boy's been here again?"

"Yes, Lady Tepping. He called to see Daphne."

My aunt turned to me with an aggrieved tone. It is a peculiarity of my
aunt's--I have met it elsewhere--that if she is angry with Jones, and
Jones is not present, she assumes a tone of injured asperity on his
account towards Brown or Smith, or any other innocent person whom she
happens to be addressing. "Now, this is really too bad, Hubert," she
burst out, as if _I_ were the culprit. "Disgraceful! Abominable! I'm
sure I can't make out what the young fellow means by it. Here he comes
dangling after Daphne every day and all day long--and never once says
whether he means anything by it or not. In MY young days, such conduct
as that would not have been considered respectable."

I nodded and beamed benignly.

"Well, why don't you answer me?" my aunt went on, warming up. "DO you
mean to tell me you think his behaviour respectful to a nice girl in
Daphne's position?"

"My dear aunt," I answered, "you confound the persons. I am not Mr.
Holsworthy. I decline responsibility for him. I meet him here, in YOUR
house, for the first time this morning."

"Then that shows how often you come to see your relations, Hubert!"
my aunt burst out, obliquely. "The man's been here, to my certain
knowledge, every day this six weeks."

"Really, Aunt Fanny," I said; "you must recollect that a professional
man--"

"Oh, yes. THAT'S the way! Lay it all down to your profession, do,
Hubert! Though I KNOW you were at the Thorntons' on Saturday--saw it in
the papers--the Morning Post--'among the guests were Sir Edward and Lady
Burnes, Professor Sebastian, Dr. Hubert Cumberledge,' and so forth, and
so forth. YOU think you can conceal these things; but you can't. I get
to know them!"

"Conceal them! My dearest aunt! Why, I danced twice with Daphne."

"Daphne! Yes, Daphne. They all run after Daphne," my aunt exclaimed,
altering the venue once more. "But there's no re