The burden of proof lay with Mr. Alfred Jingle; and he produced his evidence that very day at dinner. The spinster aunt could hardly believe her eyes. Mr. Tracy Tupman was established at Emily’s side, ogling, whispering, and smiling, in opposition to Mr. Snodgrass. Not a word, not a look, not a glance, did he bestow upon his heart’s pride of the evening before.

“Damn that boy!” thought old Mr. Wardle to himself.⁠—He had heard the story from his mother. “Damn that boy! He must have been asleep. It’s all imagination.”

“Traitor!” thought the spinster aunt. “Dear Mr. Jingle was not deceiving me. Ugh! how I hate the wretch!”