“The doctor declares it would be impossible at present, Helen, and it would not look right anyway, you know.  He will certainly have to remain until he is better.”

“And how long will that be?”

“A week, or perhaps more,” was the reply.

And Helen saw that her promised holiday was ruined; her emotions, however, were not all of disappointment, for though she was vexed at the interruptions, she recollected with sudden relief that she could thus obtain, and without so much effort of her own, the time to debate the problem of Mr. Harrison.  Also there was in her mind, if not exactly pity for the invalid, at any rate the nearest to it that Helen had ever learned to feel, an uncomfortable fright at the idea of such suffering.

“I promise you,” said Aunt Polly, who had been watching her face and trying to read her emotions, “that we shall only postpone the good time I meant to give you.  You cannot possibly be more vexed about it than I, for I was rejoicing in your triumph with Mr. Harrison.”

“I’m not worrying on that account,” said Helen, angrily.

“Helen, dear,” said Mrs. Roberts, pleadingly, “what can be the matter with you?  I think anyone who was watching you and me would get the idea that I was the one to whom the fortune is coming.  I suppose that was only one of your jokes, my dear, but I truly don’t think you show a realization of what a tremendous opportunity you have.  You show much more lack of experience than I had any idea could be possible.”

“It isn’t that, Aunt Polly,” protested Helen; “I realize it, but I want time to think.”

“To think, Helen!  But what is there to think?  It seems to be madness to trifle with such a chance.”

“Will it be trifling to keep him waiting a while?” asked Helen, laughing in spite of her vexation.

“Maybe not, my dear; but you ought to know that every other girl in this house would snap him up at one second’s notice.  If you’d only seen them watching you last night as I did.”

“I saw a little,” was the reply.  “But, Aunt Polly, is Mr. Harrison the only man whom I can find?”

“My husband and I have been over the list of our acquaintances, and not found anyone that can be compared with him for an instant, Helen.  We know of no one that would do for you that has half as much money.”

“I never said he’d do for me,” said Helen, again laughing.  “Understand me, Auntie,” she added; “it isn’t that I’d not like the fortune!  If I could get it without its attachment—­”

“But, my dear, you know you can never get any wealth except by marriage; what is the use of talking such nonsense, even in fun?”

“But, listen,” objected Helen in turn; “suppose I don’t want such a great fortune—­suppose I should marry one of these other men?”