I drummed my fingers on the table.  Presently Hilda spoke again.  “Why don’t you try to get to know him, and find out precisely what’s the matter?”

“I know what’s the matter—­now you’ve told me,” I answered.  “It’s as clear as day.  Daphne is very much smitten with him, too.  I’m sorry for Daphne!  Well, I’ll take your advice; I’ll try to have some talk with him.”

“Do, please; I feel sure I have hit upon it.  He has got himself engaged in a hurry to some girl he doesn’t really care about, and he is far too much of a gentleman to break it off, though he’s in love quite another way with Daphne.”

Just at that moment the door opened and my aunt entered.

“Why, where’s Daphne?” she cried, looking about her and arranging her black lace shawl.

“She has just run out into Westbourne Grove to get some gloves and a flower for the fete this evening,” Hilda answered.  Then she added, significantly, “Mr. Holsworthy has gone with her.”

“What?  That boy’s been here again?”

“Yes, Lady Tepping.  He called to see Daphne.”

My aunt turned to me with an aggrieved tone.  It is a peculiarity of my aunt’s—­I have met it elsewhere—­that if she is angry with Jones, and Jones is not present, she assumes a tone of injured asperity on his account towards Brown or Smith, or any other innocent person whom she happens to be addressing.  “Now, this is really too bad, Hubert,” she burst out, as if I were the culprit.  “Disgraceful!  Abominable!  I’m sure I can’t make out what the young fellow means by it.  Here he comes dangling after Daphne every day and all day long—­and never once says whether he means anything by it or not.  In my young days, such conduct as that would not have been considered respectable.”

I nodded and beamed benignly.

“Well, why don’t you answer me?” my aunt went on, warming up.  “Do you mean to tell me you think his behaviour respectful to a nice girl in Daphne’s position?”

“My dear aunt,” I answered. “you confound the persons.  I am not Mr. Holsworthy.  I decline responsibility for him.  I meet him here, in your house, for the first time this morning.”

“Then that shows how often you come to see your relations, Hubert!” my aunt burst out, obliquely.  “The man’s been here, to my certain knowledge, every day this six weeks.”

“Really, Aunt Fanny,” I said; “you must recollect that a professional man—­”

“Oh, yes.  That’s the way!  Lay it all down to your profession, do, Hubert!  Though I know you were at the Thorntons’ on Saturday—­saw it in the papers—­the Morning Post—­’among the guests were Sir Edward and Lady Burnes, Professor Sebastian, Dr. Hubert Cumberledge,’ and so forth, and so forth.  You think you can conceal these things; but you can’t.  I get to know them!”

“Conceal them!  My dearest aunt!  Why, I danced twice with Daphne.”