“I can’t tell what to think, I’m sure,” said Aunt Charlotte.  “Anyhow, it’s most providential that you escaped, but as for your being prevented, as you say—­as for anything pushing you back—­why, my dear, of course that was only your fancy.  What else could it have been?  I’m far too practical to believe in presentiments, and warnings, and nonsense of that sort.  I’d as soon believe in table-rapping.  No, my dear; I thank God you’ve come back safe and sound, but don’t go hinting at anything supernatural, because I simply don’t believe in it.”

“Then why do you thank God?” asked Austin, “Isn’t He supernatural?  Why, He’s the only really supernatural Being possible, it seems to me.”

That was a poser.  Aunt Charlotte, having recovered her equanimity, began to feel argumentative.  It was incumbent on her to prove that she was not inconsistent in attributing Austin’s preservation to the intervention of God, while disclaiming any belief in what she called the supernatural.  And for the moment she did not know how to do it.

“By the supernatural, Austin,” she said at last, in a very oracular tone, “I mean superstition.  And I call that story of yours a piece of superstition and nothing else.”

“Auntie, you do talk the most delightful nonsense of any elderly lady of my acquaintance,” cried Austin, as he laughingly patted her on the back.  “It’s no use arguing with you, because you never can see that two and two make four.  It’s very sad, isn’t it?  However, the thing to be thankful for is that I’ve got back safe and sound, and that we’ve both had a delightful afternoon.  And now tell me all your adventures.  I’m dying to hear about the vicar, and the Cobbledicks, and the ingenious Jock and Sandy.  Did all your friends turn up?”

“Indeed they did, and a most charming time we had,” replied Aunt Charlotte briskly.  “Of course they were astonished to find that you weren’t here to welcome them, and I was obliged to say how unfortunate it was, but a most stupid mistake had arisen, and that you were dreadfully sorry, and all the rest of it.  Ah, you don’t know what you missed, Austin.  The boys were full of fun as usual, and dear Lizzie—­or was it Florrie? well, it doesn’t matter—­said she was sure you’d gone to the Court in preference because you were expecting to meet a lot of girls there who were much prettier than she was.  Of course she was joking, but——­”

“The vulgar, disgusting brute!” cried Austin, in sudden anger.  “And these are the creatures you torment me to associate with.  Well——­”

“Austin, you’ve no right to call a young lady a brute; it’s abominably rude of you,” said Aunt Charlotte severely.  “There was nothing vulgar in what she said; it was just a playful sally, such as any sprightly girl might indulge in.  I assured her you were going to meet nobody but Mr St Aubyn himself, and then she said it was a shame that you should have been inveigled away to be bored by——­”