"That's something so, Fanny. But granting--for the sake of argument merely--that Boston has been asking Kitty to marry him, and she doesn't know whether she wants him, what are we to do about it? _I_ don't like him well enough to plead his cause; do you? When does Kitty think she'll be able to make up her mind?" "She's to let him know before we leave." The colonel laughed. "And so he's to hang about here on uncertainties for two whole days! That _is_ rather rough on him. Fanny, what made you so eager for this business?" "Eager? I _wasn't_ eager." "Well, then,--reluctantly acquiescent?" "Why, she's so literary and that." "And what?" "How insulting!--Intellectual, and so on; and I thought she would be just fit to live in a place where everybody is literary and intellectual. That is, I thought that, if I thought anything." "Well," said the colonel, "you may have been right on the whole, but I don't think Kitty is showing any particular force of mind, just now, that would fit her to live in Boston. My opinion is, that it's ridiculous for her to keep him in suspense. She might as well answer him first as last. She's putting herself under a kind of obligation by her delay. I'll talk to her--" "If you do, you'll kill her. You don't know how she's wrought up about it." "O well, I'll be careful of her sensibilities. It's my duty to speak with her. I'm here in the place of a parent. Besides, don't I know Kitty? I've almost brought her up." "Maybe you're right. You're all so queer that perhaps you're right. Only, do be careful, Richard. You must approach the matter very delicately,--indirectly, you know. Girls are different, remember, from young men, and you mustn't be blunt. Do maneuver a little, for once in your life." "All right, Fanny; you needn't be afraid of my doing anything awkward or sudden. I'll go to her room pretty soon, after she is quieted down, and have a good, calm old fatherly conversation with her." The colonel was spared this errand; for Kitty had left some of her things on Fanny's table, and now came back for them with a lamp in her hand. Her averted face showed the marks of weeping; the corners of her firm-set lips were downward bent, as if some resolution which she had taken were very painful. This the anxious Fanny saw; and she made a gesture to the colonel which any woman would have understood to enjoin silence, or, at least, the utmost caution and tenderness of speech. The colonel summoned his _finesse_ and said, cheerily, "Well, Kitty, what's Boston been saying to you?" Mrs. Ellison fell back upon her sofa as if shot, and placed her hand over her face. Kitty seemed not to hear her cousin. Having gathered up her things, she bent an unmoved face and an unseeing gaze full upon him, and glided from the room without a word.