d Agatha a husband--a
weakness which, it must be confessed, lurks in the heart of almost every
married lady.

Agatha had been laughing at it, alternately flushing up or looking
scornful, as her mouth had a natural propensity for looking; balancing
herself occasionally on the arm of the sofa, which, being rather small
and of a light figure, she could do with both impunity and grace; or
else rushing to the open window, ostensibly to let her black kitten
investigate street-sights from its mistress's shoulder. Agatha was very
much of a child still, or could be when she chose.

Mrs. Hill had been regretting some two or three "excellent matches" of
which she felt sure Miss Bowen had thrown away her chance; and young
Mrs. Thornycroft had tried hard to persuade her dearest Agatha how very
much happier she would be in a house of her own, than as a boarder even
in this excellent physician's family. But Agatha only laughed on, and
devoted herself more than ever to the black kitten.

She was, I fear, a damsel who rather neglected the _bienseances_ of
life. Only, in her excuse, it must be allowed that her friends were
doing what they had no earthly business to do; since; if there is one
subject above all upon which a young woman has a right to keep her
thoughts, feelings, and intentions to herself, and to exact from others
the respect of silence, it is that of marriage. Possibly, Agatha Bowen
was of this opinion.

"Mrs. Hill, you are a very kind, good soul: and Emma Thornycroft, I like
you very much; but if--(Oh! be quiet, Tittens!)--if you could manage to
let me and 'my Husband' alone."

These were the only serious words she said--and they were but half
serious; she evidently felt such an irresistible propensity to laugh.

"Now," continued she, turning the conversation, and putting on a
dignified aspect, which occasionally she took it into her head to
assume, though more in playfulness than earnest--"now let me tell you
who you will meet here at dinner to-day."

"Major Harper, of course."

"I do not see the 'of course' Mrs. Thornycroft," returned Agatha,
rather sharply; then, melting into a smile, she added: "Well, 'of
course,' as you say; what more likely visitor could I have than my
guardian?"

"Trustee, my dear; guardians belong to romances, where young ladies are
always expected to hate, or fall in love with them."

Agatha flushed slightly. Now, unlike most girls, Miss Bowen did not look
pretty when she blushed; he