"From killing him? I should think so!" said Doctor Sophy, in a high tone of voice. She was in her dressing-gown, and sitting before the fire that had been lighted in her own little sanctum upstairs; but she was not smoking as she was usually at that hour. The occasion was too serious for cigarettes: Doctor Sophy was denying herself. Perhaps that was the reason why she looked so haggard and so angry, as she turned suddenly and spoke to her niece in a somewhat excited way. "What made him unfriendly? Do you not know? It was because you flirted with Oliver Trent! I really think you did, Lesley. And I know your father thought so too." "Then he ought to have been vexed with me, not with Oliver," said Lesley, standing her ground, but turning very pale. "Yes, yes, but you are a girl, and he did not like to blame you. He spoke rather strongly about Oliver Trent to me. However, it is no use saying so now. We had better keep that phase of the matter as quiet as we can." "Aunt Sophy," said Lesley, in a tremulous tone, "you don't mean--you don't think--that my--my _flirting_, as you call it, with Mr. Trent will be spoken of and tend to hurt my father--my father's good name?" Aunt Sophy stared at her. "Of course it would hurt your father's chances if it _were_ talked about," she said, rather, sharply. "I don't see how it could do otherwise. People would say that he might have quarrelled with Oliver about you, you know. But we must try to keep the matter as quiet as we can. _I'm_ prepared to swear that they were bosom-friends, and that I never heard Caspar say a word against him; and you had better follow my example." "But, Aunt Sophy--if I can't----" "If you want to come the Jeanie Deans' business, my dear," said Miss Brooke, "you had better reflect that personal application to the Queen for a pardon will not help you very much now-a-days. I must confess that, although I admire Jeanie Deans very much, I don't intend to emulate her. It's my opinion too that most women will tell lies for the sake of men they love, but not for the sake of women." "Oh, Aunt Sophy!" "It is no good making exclamations," said Aunt Sophy, with unusual irritability. "If you are different from all other women, I can't help it. I once thought that I was different myself, but I find I am as great a fool as any of them. There, go to bed, child! Things will turn out all right by and by. Nobody could be so absurd as to believe ill of your father." "You think it will be all right?" said Lesley, wistfully.