"Yes. Don't be unkind, Mrs. Blunt. And then Charlie was something so new--such a charming change--that----" "Upon my word, you might be your grandfather. Talk about heredity, and Ibsen, and all that!" "Can't you help me, dear Mrs. Blunt?" "I can't give you two husbands, if that's what you want. There, child, don't cry. Never mind me. Have another sniff." "I shall go home," said Agatha. "Perhaps grandpapa may be able to advise me." "Your grandfather! Gracious goodness, girl, you're never going to tell him?" "Yes, I shall. Grandpapa's had a lot of experience: he says so." "I should think he had!" whispered Mrs. Blunt with uplifted hands. "Good-by, Mrs. Blunt. You don't know how unhappy I am. Thanks, yes, a hansom, please. Mrs. Blunt, are you going to ask Mr. Merceron here again?" Mrs. Blunt's toleration was exhausted. "Be off with you!" she said sternly, pointing a forefinger at the door. By great good fortune Agatha found Lord Thrapston at home. Drawing a footstool beside his chair, she sat down. Her agitation was past, and she wore a gravely business like air. "Grandpapa," she began, "I have got something to tell you." "Go ahead, my dear," said the old gentleman, stroking her golden hair. Her father had curls like that when he was a boy. "Something dreadful I've done, you know. But you won't be very angry, will you?" "We'll see." "You oughtn't to be, because you're not very good yourself, are you?" and she first glanced up into his burnt-out old eyes and then pressed her lips on his knotted lean old hand. "Aggy," said he, "I expect you play the deuce with the young fellows, don't you?" Agatha laughed softly, but a frown succeeded. "That's just it," she said. "Now, you're to listen and not interrupt, or I shall never be able to manage it. And you're not to look at me, grandpapa." The narrative--that thrice-told tale--began. As the comments of Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Blunt were omitted, those of Lord Thrapston may well receive like treatment, more especially as they tended not to edification; but before his granddaughter had finished her story the old man had sworn softly four times and chuckled audibly twice. "I knew there was a girl in that temple, soon as Calder told me," said he. "But you didn't know who it was. Oh, and Calder doesn't?" "Not he. Well, you've made a pretty little fool of yourself, missie. What are you going to do now?" "That's what you've got to tell me." "I? Oh, I dare say. No, no; you got into the scrape and you can get out of it. And---" He suddenly recollected his duties. "Look here, Agatha, I must--hang it, Agatha, I shouldn't be doing my duty as--as a grandfather if I didn't say that it's a monstrous disgraceful thing of you to have done. Yes, d----d disgraceful;" and he took a pinch of snuff with an air of severe virtue. "Yes, dear; but you shouldn't swear, should you?"