Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant spirits.  So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,—­Miss Nugent in particular.  She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations were making to celebrate the event.

On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go away, but is too polite to do so.

‘You know, Freda,’ she says, ’I have been longing to be of age for yearth.  Mamma ath been tho thrict, and kept me tho clothe, that I never dared to thpeak to a gentleman.  Now I can do ath I like.’

‘And what will you have to say?’ asked Freda, bluntly.  ’I never hear you venture upon many topics, when you have an opportunity.’

‘Oh, Freda! there are tho many thingth.’

‘Just tell me one or two.’

’Let me thee.  Ballth and contherth, and the opera when I go to London, and—­and—­muthic—­’

‘Is that all?’

’You are tho tirethome, Freda; of courthe there are other thingth, but one cannot think of them all at onthe.  Every one ithent tho clever ath you.  Colonel Vaughan thaid I talked quite enough for any young lady.  Gentlemen didn’t like ladieth who talked too much.’

‘Indeed!  Where was your mamma when he said that?’

’Oh! the didn’t hear him.  Do you know I think the liketh Colonel Vaughan, and ith jealouth of me.  He thaid he would come down when I came of age, and tho he did, you see, Freda.’

‘To your mamma, or you?’

’To me quite alone.  But you needn’t look tho croth and fierthe, Freda.  I couldn’t help hith being polite to me, and paying me complimenth.’

‘What compliments?’

’Oh!  I can’t tell you, he thaid so much about my lookth, that I am thure he made me bluth.’

‘Did you believe him?’

‘Yeth; and I think he liketh me better than mamma.’

’Do you think there is any one else in the world besides your mamma and yourself?’

‘Well, yeth, of courth.’

’Then why don’t you sometimes talk of some one else?  Do you like Colonel Vaughan, for instance?’

’Oh!  I never thaw any one in my life I like tho much, except Rowland Prothero.  He ith younger.  Mamma thaith—­’

‘There again, Wilhelmina!’

‘I forgot—­you are tho quick, Freda.  Don’t you like Colonel Vaughan?’

‘Pretty well sometimes.’

’What a colour you have, Freda.  You thouldn’t draw tho much.  I with I had a tathte for drawing.  Colonel Vaughan drawth tho well!’

‘What can his drawing well have to do with your drawing?’

’He would look over my drawing then ath he doth yourth, Freda.  He thaith you are very clever.  But you mutht be nearly five-and-twenty, Freda; and he thaith no woman ought ever to be more than twenty-one,’

’When did he favour you with that remark?  I think I once heard him say twenty-five was the most charming age of all.’