And it came just in the way of which my inner consciousness had warned me.  Now, of course, I never really expected to have Tabitha with me all her life:  but I did want just for a little while to make-believe, as it were, that I had a daughter, and to feel as if she were happy and content with me.  So it was rather hard that such a thing should happen, only the second time that she went out on that hideous machine.  I can see her telling me about it now, kneeling down in her affectionate way by my sofa, all flushed and dishevelled after her ride, and with quite a new expression on her face.  It seemed that she had punctured her bicycle (whatever that means) and could not get on:  and then an “awfully nice man” (she will use the modern slang; in my days we should merely have said “a gentleman”) came up with his tools and things, and put it right for her:  and ended by claiming acquaintance and proposing to call, “Because, Mammy dear,” said Tabitha, “isn’t it funny, but he knows Aunt Rennie!”

Now, kind reader, I must confess that this was a little too much for me.  To have Aunt Rennie (in spirit) perpetually between me and Tabitha was bad enough:  to have her demoralising Tabitha by sending her bicycles was still worse:  but to have her introducing, (I had nearly said intruding) young men into the privacy of my home, and into dangerous proximity with Tabitha was, for a moment, more than I could stand.

“Well, my child,” said I, “No doubt Miss Rensworth and her friends were more amusing than your poor sick Mammy.  I suppose it was selfish of me to want to have you all to myself.  If you would like to go back to your Aunt Rennie again, dear child.”  I added, “you have only to say so.”

What Tabitha said in reply I shall never forget; but neither, friendly reader, shall I tell it to you.  So you must be content with knowing that we were friends again; and that the end of it was that I gave in about John Chambers—­as his name turned out to be—­just as I had given in about the bicycle.

He came in just as we were having tea the next day, and the worst of it was, I had to admit at once that he was nice.  Of course this proved nothing in regard to Aunt Rennie and her friends:  and it was just as unreasonable that I should be expected to receive whoever happened to know her, as if he had turned out to be vulgar or odious.  But, as it was, he introduced himself in a sensible, straightforward way, looked one straight in the face when he spoke, had a deep, hearty laugh that sounded manly and true, and evidently entertained the friendliest sentiments for Tabitha.