“Ah! Mercy upon us!” sighed my aunt. “I know all about it, Trot! Barkis and myself had quite a gossip while you were out with Dick. I know all about it. I don’t know where these wretched girls expect to go to, for my part. I wonder they don’t knock out their brains against⁠—against mantelpieces,” said my aunt; an idea which was probably suggested to her by her contemplation of mine.

“Poor Emily!” said I.

“Oh, don’t talk to me about poor,” returned my aunt. “She should have thought of that, before she caused so much misery! Give me a kiss, Trot. I am sorry for your early experience.”

As I bent forward, she put her tumbler on my knee to detain me, and said:

“Oh, Trot, Trot! And so you fancy yourself in love! Do you?”

“Fancy, aunt!” I exclaimed, as red as I could be. “I adore her with my whole soul!”