Miss Wix, as a matter of fact, was not particularly pleased to meet anybody. She lived with the Walfords because she had no means of her own and it was essential for her to live somewhere; but she accepted her dependence with mental indignation, and fate had soured her. Under a chilly demeanour she often burned secretly with the consciousness that she was not wanted, and the knowledge found expression at long intervals in an emotional outbreak, in which she quarrelled with Louisa violently, and proclaimed an immediate intention of "taking a situation." What kind of situation she thought she was competent to fill nobody inquired; neither did the "threat" ever impose on anyone, nor did she take more than a preliminary step towards fulfilling it. She nursed the "Wanted" columns of the _Telegraph_ ostentatiously for a day or two, and waited for the olive-branch. The household were aware that she must be persuaded to forgive them, and she was duly persuaded--relapsing into the acidulated person, in whom hysteria looked impossible. A year or so later the outbreak would be repeated, and she would then threaten to "take a situation" quite as vehemently as before. "Tea, Aunt Emily?" "Yes, please, if it hasn't got cold." Humphrey took it to her. She stirred the cup briskly, and eyed him with critical disfavour. "I've read your book, Mr. Kent." "Oh," he responded, as she did not say any more. "Have you, Miss Wix?" "Very good, I'm sure," she brought out, after a further silence. He would not have imagined the simple words capable of conveying so clearly that she thought it very small beer indeed. "I suppose you're in the middle of another?" "No," he replied, "not yet." "Really?" She obviously considered that he ought to be. "You should call her 'aunt,'" exclaimed Sam Walford. "You'll have to call her 'Aunt Emily.' We don't go in for formality, my boy. Rough diamonds!" "Perhaps Mr. Kent thinks it would be rather premature," suggested Miss Wix. He talked to Cynthia. Fruit and fowls might be admired if he liked, and she and papa took him on a tour of inspection. There were moments when he was alone with Cynthia, while her father discovered that there weren't any eggs. "He is very good-looking," said Mrs. Walford; "don't you think so?" "I can't say he struck me as being remarkable for beauty," said the spinster. "I didn't say he was 'remarkable for beauty,' but he has--er--distinction--decided distinction. I'm surprised you don't see it. And he has very fine eyes." "His eyes won't give 'em any carriage-and-pair," replied Miss Wix. "_I_ used to have fine eyes, my dear, but I've stared at hard times so long." "I don't know where the 'hard times' come in, I'm sure!" exclaimed Mrs. Walford sharply. "And he wanted to give her a carriage directly they marry, but Sam's forbidden it." The maiden sniffed.