"I shall throw the water-bottle or the jug at you directly," cried Clotilde, as she washed her hands. "Never mind: he is rich, and not old. I wouldn't marry a yellow, snuffy old man, if he were ten thousand lords. There!" "Who's going to marry him?" said Marie scornfully. "You are. You'll be obliged to," retorted Clotilde. "I wonder," said Marie, "whether Mr Elbraham is going to buy you of aunties, and if so, how much he is going to give." Clotilde faced round at this sting. "If you think I'm going to marry him, or if aunts think so, they are mistaken!" she cried. "I know what I am going to do. I know something that you would give your ears to know, my lady." She looked mockingly at her sister, and waved her hand, as if wafting a kiss through the air. Marie did not respond, but there was something in her eyes that troubled Ruth, who, being near, laid her hand in a sympathetic fashion upon her arm. A summons from Markes put a stop to further conversation. "What is it, Markes?" cried Clotilde. "Aunts want you," said the woman roughly. "Gentlemen visitors;" and before she could be further questioned she closed the door. "I know," cried Clotilde, darting a malicious glance at her sister: "it's Captain Glen, and he has brought his little squire with him. Come along down, and speak to Richard Millet, while I talk to the Captain. I say, Rie, dear." "Well?" "What a nice little husband he would make--quite a lady's page!" "`My pretty page, look out afar, Look out, look out afar,'" she sang; but Marie seemed hardly to notice her, for she was very quiet and thoughtful, as she gave a touch or two to her hair. "There, that will do; come along--you won't be noticed." Marie glanced at her sharply, and the blood suffused her cheeks; but she said nothing, only beckoned to Ruth to come, and they had nearly reached the drawing-room door when they met Markes, who took Ruth into custody. "Not you, my dear," she said quietly--"you're to stop; it's them that's to go." As she laid her hand upon the door Clotilde's heart beat fast, while a look of delight flushed her countenance. At the same time, though, she wondered that Marcus Glen and his friend should have called so soon. "The silly old things!" she thought; "they could not see that the bouquets came from the Captain and Mr Millet." Then she glanced round to see that her sister was close beside her, opened the door, and entered. Disappointment! Seated with their backs to the window were Mr Elbraham and Lord Henry Moorpark. The Fates had ordained that they should make their calls both at the same hour, and they now rose to meet Clotilde and Marie. "Then they did send the bouquets," thought Clotilde; and her heart sank at the thought of their aunts' innuendoes meaning anything serious. Had she or her sister any doubts, they were soon chased away; for, though this was made quite a formal visit, there was a something quite unmistakable in their visitors' ways.