“Well, you know, Kitty darling, it happened at Brighton last September.  You were in Scotland then.  I was with old Lady Shrewsbury, who is as blind as a bat—­and where’s the use of having a person to look after you when they’re blind!  You see, my horse ran away, and I think he must have gone ever so many miles, over railroad bridges and hedges and stone walls.  I’m certain he jumped over a small cottage.  Well, you know, when all seemed lost, suddenly there was a strong hand laid on the reins, and my horse was stopped.  I tumbled into some strange gentleman’s arms, and was carried into a house, where I was resuscitated.  I returned home in the gentleman’s carriage.

“Now the worst of it is,” said Minnie, with a piteous look, “that the person who stopped the horse called to inquire after me the next day.  Lady Shrewsbury, like an old goose, was awfully civil to him; and so there I was!  His name is Captain Kirby, and I wish there were no captains in the world.  The life he led me!  He used to call, and I had to go out riding with him, and old Lady Shrewsbury utterly neglected me; and so, you know, Kitty darling, he at last, you know, of course, proposed.  That’s what they all do, you know, when they save your life.  Always!  It’s awful!”

Minnie heaved a sigh, and sat apparently meditating on the enormous baseness of the man who saved a lady’s life and then proposed; and it was not until Mrs. Willoughby had spoken twice that she was recalled to herself.

“What did you tell him?” was her sister’s question.

“Why, what could I tell him?”

“What!” cried Mrs. Willoughby; “you don’t—­”

“Now, Kitty, I think it’s very unkind in you, when I want all your sympathy, to be so horrid.”

“Well, tell it your own way, Minnie dearest.”

Minnie sat for a time regarding vacancy with a soft, sad, and piteous expression in her large blue eyes; with her head also a little on one side, and her delicate hands gently clasped in front of her.

[Illustration:  “ANOTHER MAN!”]

“You see, Kitty darling, he took me out riding, and—­he took me to the place where I had met him, and then he proposed.  Well, you know, I didn’t know what to say.  He was so earnest, and so despairing.  And then, you know, Kitty dearest, he had saved my life, and so—­”

“And so?”

“Well, I told him I didn’t know, and was shockingly confused, and then we got up quite a scene.  He swore that he would go to Mexico, though why I can’t imagine; and I really wish he had; but I was frightened at the time, and I cried; and then he got worse, and I told him not to; whereupon he went into raptures, and began to call me no end of names—­spooney names, you know; and I—­oh, I did so want him to stop!—­I think I must have promised him all that he wanted; and when I got home I was frightened out of my poor little wits, and cried all night.”

“Poor dear child!” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, with tender sympathy.  “What a wretch!”