ll John at once," say I, with subtile amiability,
disengaging myself from his arms, and walking quickly toward the bell.

"Stay!" he says, putting his hand on me in detention, before I have made
two steps; "you must not! it is no use! John will not do, or William
either: it is a matter of business. I have" (sighing) "to go through
many of these papers with her."

"_You?_"

"Yes, _I_; why is that so surprising?"

"What possible concern is it of _yours_?" ask I, throwing the reins on
the neck of my indignation, and urging that willing steed to a sharp
gallop, crimsoning as I speak, and raising my voice, as has ever been
our immemorial wont in home-broils. "For my part, I never saw any good
come of people putting their fingers into their neighbors' pies!"

"Not even if those neighbors are the oldest friends they have in the
world?" he says, gently, yet eying with some wonder--perhaps
apprehension, for odd things frighten men--the small scarlet scold who
stands swelling with ruffled feathers, and angry eyes, winking to keep
the tears out of them, before him.

"I thought _father_ was the oldest friend you had in the world!" say I,
with a jealous tartness; "you always _used_ to tell us so."

"_Some_ of my oldest friends, then," he answers, looking a little
amused, "since you will have me so exact."

"If Mrs. Huntley is the oldest friend you have in the world," say I,
acrimoniously, still sticking to his first and most offensive form of
expression, and _heavily_ accenting it, "I wonder that you never
happened to mention her existence before you went."

"So do I," he says, a little thoughtfully. "I am not much of a friend,
am I? but--" (looking at me with that sincere and hearty tenderness
which, as long as I am under its immediate influence, always disarms me)
"my head was full of other things; and people drop out of one's life so;
I had neither seen nor heard of her since--since she married."

("Since she was engaged to you," say I, mentally interlining this
statement, "and threw you over because you were not rich enough! why
cannot you be honest and say so?") but aloud I give utterance to nothing
but a shrewish and disbelieving "Hm!"

A pause. I do not know what Roger is thinking of, but I am following out
my own train of thought; the fruit of which is this observation, made
with an air of reflection:

"Mr. Huntley is a very rich man, I suppose?"

Roger laughs.

"_Rich!_ poor Huntley! that is the very last t