“Remain where I am—­I mean with Miss Payne—­and look out for a house for myself.”

“But, my dear, you are much too young to live alone.”

“I am twenty-one now; I shall be twenty-two by the time I am settled in a house of my own.  And, Ada, I am going to ask you a favor.  Lend me your boys to complete my respectability.”

“What! for altogether?  Why, Katherine, you will marry, and—­”

“Well, suppose I do, that need not prevent my having the comfort of my nephews’ company until the fatal knot is tied.”

“Now, dear Katherine, do tell me—­are you engaged to any one?  Not a foreigner?—­anything but a foreigner!”

“At present,” said Katherine, with some solemnity, “I am engaged to two young men.”

“My dear!  You of all young girls!  I am astonished.  There is nothing so deep, after all, as a demure young woman.  I suppose you are in a scrape, and want Colonel Ormonde to help you out of it?”

“I think I can manage my own affairs.”

“Don’t be too sure.  A girl with money like you is just the subject for a breach-of-promise case.  Do I know either of these men?”

“Yes, both.”

“Who are they?” cried Mrs. Ormonde, with deepening interest.

“Cis and Charlie,” returned Katherine, laughing.

“I really cannot see anything amusing in this sort of stupid mystification,” cried Mrs. Ormonde, in a huff.

“Pray forgive me; but your determination to marry me out of hand tempts me to such naughtiness.  However, be forgiving, and lend me the boys till next spring.  They might go to Castleford for Christmas.”

“Oh no,” interrupted Mrs. Ormonde, hastily.  “I forgot to mention that Ormonde has almost promised to spend next Christmas in Paris.  It is such a nuisance to be in one’s own place at Christmas; there is such work distributing blankets and coals and things.  If one is away, a check to the rector settles everything.  I assure you the life of a country gentleman is not all pleasure.”

“Then you will let me have the boys?”

“Well, dear, if you really like it, I do not see, when you have such a fancy, why you should not be indulged.”

“Thank you.  And I may choose a school for Cis?”

“I am sure the neither Ormonde nor I would interfere; just now it is of no great importance.  But—­of course—­that is—­I should like some allowance for myself out of their money.”

“Of course you should have whatever you are in the habit of receiving.”

After this, Mrs. Ormonde was most cordial in her approbation of everything suggested by her sister-in-law.  The friendly conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Cecil with his satchel over his shoulder.  He went straight to his young aunt and hugged her.

“Well, Cis, I see you don’t care for mother now,” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, easily moved to jealousy, as she always was.