, because if you would stay we should be
very glad."

"Oh, auntie!" whispered Laura, "impossible."

"It is not impossible, Laura," cried the old lady; "and I beg that you
will not interfere. Isabel, my child, I shall be very glad indeed if
you will stay, and you need not be at all afraid of meeting that
dissolute, dissipated young man."

"Mrs Crane"--began Isabel, agitatedly, but she was interrupted at once.

"No, no, no, my dear; pray don't apologise and make excuses. Laura and
I would be very pleased, and we see nothing whatever of Frederick now
from breakfast-time to dinner. I don't know where he spends his days,
but he is after no good."

"Aunt dear, I really must interfere once more," cried Laura, warmly.
"It is, as I said, impossible for Isabel to stoop to meet Fred again;
and as to staying in the house--my dear aunt, of what can you be
thinking?"

"That we are beginning to live in evil times, Laura," cried the old
lady, indignantly, "when little girls so far forget the respect due to
their elders as to speak as you did just now. I ought to be the best
judge, miss, of what is correct, if you please."

"Pray say no more, Mrs Crane," cried Isabel, earnestly. "I must go
back to the hotel where we are staying. It would indeed be impossible
for me to visit here now."

"Oh, very well, my dear, very well," cried the old lady, drawing herself
up. "I can see very plainly that you have allowed yourself to be
impressed by what Laura has said. Young people will hold together, and
think that they are wiser than their elders. There is one comfort,
though, for us old folk: you all find out your mistake."

"Good-bye, dear Mrs Crane," said Isabel, advancing with open hands.

"Good-day, Miss Lee," said the old lady, frigidly, as she held out her
fingers limply.

But Isabel did not take them. She laid her hands upon her shoulders,
and, with tears in her eyes, kissed her affectionately twice.

There was magic in the touch, for in an instant she was snatched to the
old lady's breast and kissed passionately again and again.

"Oh, my dear, my dear!" was sobbed; "I didn't think I was such an
ill-tempered, wicked old woman. Pray, pray forgive me. I don't know
what comes to me sometimes. And you in such sorrow and pain! Oh, that
wicked, miserable, faithless boy! Something will come upon him some day
like a judgment."

"Oh no, no, no!" cried Isabel, wildly. "Don't--pray don't say that."

"But I have said i