ried than _I_ am,
Frank; and I do not believe that likely, do you?"

She laughed cheerily, tapping me on the cheek with her glove.

She was always petting and caressing me; and, I believe, considered me a
sort of big baby exclusively her own property.

"But his taking a house looks suspicious," I said, willing to be more
convinced.

"Not a bit of it," said Miss Pimpernell, sturdily. "Why, if Monsieur
Parole d'Honneur took a house, would that be any reason for _his_
getting married? Ah, I know, Frank, who has put all this nonsense in
your head! It is that gossiping old Shuffler. I'll give him a lecture
when I next catch him," and she shook her fist comically in the air, to
the intense wonderment of Miss Spight, who was crossing the road.

"But, mind, I didn't tell you so, Miss Pimpernell. Don't tell him that
I repeated what he said?"

"Stuff and nonsense," she said. "Why, he'll tell everybody he meets the
news in confidence, just the same as he did you. I'll give him a good
wigging, I tell you! Mr Mawley is not going to be married in a hurry;
and if he is, not to the young person you think, Master Frank."

"I did not mention anybody, Miss Pimpernell," I said, in confusion; for,
her keen black eyes seemed to penetrate into my very heart, and search
out my secret fears.

She looked very sagacious.

"Ah! Frank, you did not _say_ anything; but your looks betrayed you.
So _that's_ the reason why the report of the curate's marriage affected
you so, is it? But you needn't blush, my dear boy! You need not blush!
_I_ will not tell tales out of school; so you may set your mind at
rest. It is not, however, as you think, Frank. Cheer up; and good-bye,
my dear boy. I must be trotting off now, or my poor blind woman will
think I'm never coming to read to her."

And off she went, leaving me much happier than old Shuffler had done.

Confound him! What did he mean, with his cock-and-a-bull story?

On reaching Lady Dasher's house, however, the house-agent's rumour was,
to my great distress, confirmed; and, that in the most authoritative
manner.

It must be true then, in spite of Miss Pimpernell's denial!

My lady was in one of her most morbid and melancholy moods, too, which
did not help to mend matters.

I praised her fuchsias on entering; but even this homage to her
favourite hobby failed to rouse her.

She had heard that Mrs Clyde had some of the most beautiful pelargonia;
and what were _her_ paltry f