“Someone that I know, Trot,” my aunt pursued, after a pause, “though of a very pliant disposition, has an earnestness of affection in him that reminds me of poor baby. Earnestness is what that somebody must look for, to sustain him and improve him, Trot. Deep, downright, faithful earnestness.”

“If you only knew the earnestness of Dora, aunt!” I cried.

“Oh, Trot!” she said again; “blind, blind!” and without knowing why, I felt a vague unhappy loss or want of something overshadow me like a cloud.

“However,” said my aunt, “I don’t want to put two young creatures out of conceit with themselves, or to make them unhappy; so, though it is a girl and boy attachment, and girl and boy attachments very often⁠—mind! I don’t say always!⁠—come to nothing, still we’ll be serious about it, and hope for a prosperous issue one of these days. There’s time enough for it to come to anything!”