somehow or
other. He is not the same fellow that he was a few months ago,--before
Dolly went away."

"It is Dolly he is bothering about," said Mollie, concisely.

Then Aimee was roused.

"I wish they were married," she said. "I wish they were married
and--safe!"

"Safe!" put in Mrs. Phil. "That is a queer thing to say. They are not in
any danger, let us devoutly hope."

The two wrinkles deepened, and the wise one sighed.

"I hope not," she answered, bending her small, round, anxious face over
her sewing, and attacking it vigorously.

"They never struck me, you know," returned Mrs. Phil, "as being a
particularly dangerous couple, though now I think of it I do remember
that it has once or twice occurred to me that Griffith has been rather
stupid lately."

"It has occurred to me," remarked Phil, dryly, "that he has taken a most
unaccountable dislike to Gowan."

Mollie turned round to her window again.

"Not to put it too strongly," continued the head of the family, "he
hates him like the deuce."

And he was not far wrong in making the assertion. The time had been
coming for some time when the course of this unimposing story of true
love was no longer to run smooth, and in these days Griffith was in a
dangerous frame of mind. Now and then he heard of Gowan dropping in to
spend a few hours at Brabazon Lodge, and now and then he heard of his
good fortune in having found in Miss MacDowlas a positive champion. He
was even a favorite with her, just as he was a favorite with many other
people. Griffith did not visit Brabazon Lodge himself, he had given
that up long ago, indeed had only once paid his respects to his relative
since her arrival in London. That one visit, short and ceremonious as it
was, had been enough for him. Like many estimable ladies, Miss MacDowlas
had prejudices of her own which were hard to remove, and appearances had
been against her nephew.

"If he is living a respectable life, and so engaged in a respectable
profession, my dear," commented Dolly's proprietress, in one of her
after conversations on the subject, "why does he look shabby and out at
elbows? It is my opinion that he is a very disreputable young man."

"She thinks," wrote Dolly to the victim, "that you waste your substance
in riotous living." And it was such an exquisite satire on the true
state of affairs, that even Griffith forgot his woes for the moment, and
laughed when he read the letter.

Dolly herself was not prone to c