Suddenly she appeared, and, whatever was the cause, she looked queenly.  She dropped into a chair, and the boys retired to the end of the piazza to make experiments on a large Newfoundland dog, while I, the happiest man alive, talked to the glorious woman before me, and enjoyed her radiant beauty.  The twilight came and deepened, and our voices unconsciously dropped to lower tones, and her voice seemed purest music.

Suddenly a small shadow came between, and the voice of Budge remarked, “Uncle Harry ’spects you, Miss Mayton.”

“Suspects me!  Of what, pray?” exclaimed the lady, patting my nephew’s cheek.

“Budge,” said I—­I felt my voice rising nearly to a scream—­“Budge, I must beg you to respect the sanctity of confidential communications.”

“What is it, Budge?” persisted Miss Mayton.  “You know the old adage, Mr. Burton, ‘Children and fools speak the truth.’  Of what does he suspect me, Budge?”

“’Tain’t suspect at all,” said Budge; “it’s espect.”

“Expect?” echoed Miss Mayton.

“Respect is what the boy is trying to say, Miss Mayton,” I interrupted.  “Budge has a terrifying faculty for asking questions, and the result of some of them this morning was my endeavour to explain the nature of the respect in which gentlemen hold ladies.”

“Yes,” said Budge; “I know all about it.  Only Uncle Harry don’t say it right.  What he calls respect I calls love.”

“Miss Mayton,” I said hastily, earnestly, “Budge is a marplot, but he is a very truthful interpreter, for all that.  Whatever my fate may be, do not——­”

“I want to talk some,” observed Budge.  “You talk all the whole time.  I—­when I loves anybody I kisses them.”  Miss Mayton gave a little start, and my thoughts followed each other with unimagined rapidity.  She was not angry, evidently.  Could it be that——?  I bent over her, and acted on Budge’s suggestion.  She raised her head slightly, and I saw that Alice Mayton had surrendered at discretion.  Taking her hand, I offered to the Lord more fervent thanks than He had ever heard from me in church.  Then Budge said, “I wants to kiss you, too.”  And I saw my glorious Alice snatch the little scamp into her arms and treat him with more affection than I had ever imagined was in her nature.

Suddenly two or three ladies came upon the piazza.

“Come, boys!” said I.  “Then I’ll call with the carriage to-morrow at three, Miss Mayton.  Good-evening.”

That night I wrote to my sister to inform her that the scales had fallen from my eyes—­I saw clearly that my nephews were angels.  And I begged to refer her to Alice Mayton for collateral evidence.

IV.—­The Fruit of My Visit

A few days later I had a letter from my sister to say she had been recalling a fortnight’s experience they once had of courtship in a boarding-house, so had determined to cut short her visit and hurry home.  Friday morning they intended to arrive—­blessings on their thoughtful hearts!  And this was Friday.  I hurried into the boys’ room and shouted, “Toddie!  Budge!  Who do you think is coming to see you this morning?”