“Then you _had_ to do with that!” exclaimed Miss Hope, setting down her claret-glass with most unladylike vehemence, and looking at the promoter as though he were a culprit caught in the very act. “I always thought that was one of your schemes; but never felt sure of it till now.” “It is not wise to be too sure of anything,” Mr. Black answered. “I had nothing, as it happened, to do with the Great Britain and Ireland Canal Company. If I had, perhaps you might not have lost by your shares; but a man I know, a confoundedly clever fellow, got rid of his the day before the smash came, and it was he who told me you had got your fingers burnt. Your friend, Mr. Pembroke, did not advise you with his customary caution there, Miss Hope.” “Mr. Pembroke had nothing to do with the matter,” said Miss Hope, angrily; “and how you happen to be so well acquainted with my private affairs is a mystery to me. I do not consider such prying gentlemanly. I do not know what may be thought of such conduct among business people, Mr. Black, but in a different circle——” “I thought it was of business we were talking,” interrupted the promoter, “of affairs which were strictly commercial! The moment any one goes on the market, Miss Hope, either personally or by deputy, that moment he or she becomes public property. I never pretended to be a gentleman; but I do not think I would go prying into my neighbour’s secret concerns for all that, any more than you would do,” he added, significantly. Almost involuntarily Heather’s eyes sought Miss Hope’s face at this statement, and under Mrs. Dudley’s look the spinster turned redder even than she had done at the conclusion of Mr. Black’s speech. “I am perfectly incapable of impertinent or undue meddling in any person’s concerns,” she said. “Thank God, curiosity is a feeling that I was born without.” “Then you ought to be sent to the South Kensington Museum,” remarked Mr. Black. “Don’t you think, aunt, that is going a little too far?” inquired Arthur. “Miss Hope only meant that she had no curiosity about indifferent subjects,” put in Mrs. Black, as usual making matters worse by trying to mend them. “Miss Hope meant no such thing,” snapped that lady. “I meant precisely what I said; that I have no curiosity, and that I never had any.” “Not even to see unfinished pictures and statues in course of chiselling,” suggested Mrs. Ormson. “I do not think Miss Hope has any undue curiosity,” said Heather; “at least, I know she has not nearly so much as I. It interests me to know the name, and occupation, and worldly means, even, of Dora Scrotter’s lover down at the mill. In the country one learns to be inquisitive about one’s neighbours. There is so little excitement or amusement, that every piece of gossip is seized on eagerly.” “You dear Heather, as if you were a gossip!” exclaimed Bessie.