had been lighted very early.  On the present occasion a great many sixpenny points were scored, and much tea and cake were consumed.  Mr Gibson never played whist nor did Dorothy.  That young John Wright and Mary Cheriton should do nothing but talk to each other was a thing of course, as they were to be married in a month or two.  Then there was Ida Cheriton, who could not very well be left at home; and Mr Gibson made himself pleasant to Dorothy and Ida Cheriton, instead of making himself pleasant to the two Miss Frenches.  Gentlemen in provincial towns quite understand that, from the nature of social circumstances in the provinces, they should always be ready to be pleasant at least to a pair at a time.  At a few minutes before twelve they were all gone, and then came the shock.

‘Dolly, my dear, what do you think of Mr Gibson?’

‘Think of him, Aunt Stanbury?’

‘Yes; think of him think of him.  I suppose you know how to think?’

‘He seems to me always to preach very drawling sermons.’

’Oh, bother his sermons!  I don’t care anything about his sermons now.  He is a very good clergyman, and the Dean thinks very much about him.’

‘I am glad of that, Aunt Stanbury.’  Then came the shock.  ’Don’t you think it would be a very good thing if you were to become Mrs Gibson?’

It may be presumed that Miss Stanbury had assured herself that she could not make progress with Dorothy by ‘beating about the bush.’  There was an inaptitude in her niece to comprehend the advantages of the situations, which made some direct explanation absolutely necessary.  Dorothy stood half smiling, half crying, when she heard the proposition, her cheeks suffused with that pink colour, and with both her hands extended with surprise.

‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since you’ve been here,’ said Miss Stanbury.

‘I think he likes Miss French,’ said Dorothy, in a whisper.

’Which of them?  I don’t believe he likes them at all.  Maybe, if they go on long enough, they may be able to toss up for him.  But I don’t think it of him.  Of course they’re after him, but he’ll be too wise for them.  And he’s more of a fool than I take him to be if he don’t prefer you to them.’  Dorothy remained quite silent.  To such an address as this it was impossible that she should reply a word.  It was incredible to her that any man should prefer herself to either of the young women in question; but she was too much confounded for the expression even of her humility.  ‘At any rate you’re wholesome, and pleasant and modest,’ said Miss Stanbury.

Dorothy did not quite like being told that she was wholesome; but, nevertheless, she was thankful to her aunt.