"And whither might your Lordship be going when I captivated you?" asked she. "Not to this house, for you had passed it by." "In good sooth, Aunt, I did not--I meant, indeed--I should maybe have looked in," stammered the young man. "Tell no lies, my lad, for thou dost it very ill," was Aunt Temperance's most inconsiderate reply. "You might come to see us oftener, I'm sure, Aubrey, if you would," said his mother in a plaintive voice. "It is hard, when I have only one child, that he should never care to come. I wish you had been a girl like Lettice, and then we could have had some comfort out of you." "My dear," said Aunt Temperance, "he is devoutly thankful he's not. He doesn't want to be tied at the aprons of a parcel of women, trust me. Have you had your pipe of open-work, or what you are pleased to call it, Gentleman, this morrow? Only think of hanging that filthy stench about those velvet fal-lals! With whom spent you last even, lad?" The question came so suddenly that Aubrey was startled into truth. "With some friends of mine in the Strand, Aunt." The next instant he was sorry. "Let's have their names," said Aunt Temperance. "Well, Tom Rookwood was one." "Folks generally put the best atop. Hope _he_ wasn't the best. Who else?" "Some gentlemen to whom Rookwood introduced me." "I want their names," said the female examiner. "Well--one of them is a Mr Winter." Aubrey spoke with great reluctance, as his aunt saw well. He selected Winter's name as being least uncommon of the group. But he soon found that Destiny, in the person of Aunt Temperance, did not mean to let him off so lightly as this. "What sort of an icicle is he?" "He isn't an icicle at all, Aunt, but a very good fellow and right pleasant company." "Prithee bring him to see us. Where lodgeth he?--is he a London man?" "He is a Worcestershire gentleman, on a visit hither." "Pass him. Who else?" "Well--a man named Darcy." "A man, and _not_ a gentleman? Whence comes he?" "I don't know. Scarcely a gentleman, seeing he deals in horses." "Horses are good fellows enough, mostly: but folks who deal in horses are apt to be worser,--why, can I never tell. Is the horse-dealer pleasant company belike?" "Not so much to my liking as Mr Winter." "I'm fain to hear it. Who else?" "There is a Mr Percy, kin to my Lord Northumberland." Aunt Temperance drew in her breath with an inverted whistle. "Lo, you now, we are in select society!" But Edith turned suddenly round. "Aubrey, is he a true Protestant?" She knew that Lord Northumberland was reckoned "the head of the recusants." "I really don't know, Aunt," replied Aubrey, to whom the idea had never before occurred. "I never heard him say aught whence I could guess it. He is a very agreeable man." "The more agreeable, maybe, the more dangerous. My boy, do have a care! `He that is not with Me is against Me.'" "Oh, he's all right, I am sure," said Aubrey, carelessly.