"Your aunts were very anxious about you," continued Minnie's companion, peering over her spectacles to read if the other had read _her_; "poor, dear ladies, I'm sure it's a great blessing for you to have such relations in your orphan state; and then your kind uncle, too, he is more sensible, and judges better what's good for you than any, as in course he should--in course he should," here she paused, and peeped at the thoughtful girl. "The lawyer Mr. Dalby's very well," ran on Mrs. Gillett, "and so is Mr. Skaife--oh, he's a pious young man! and his sermons are quite edifying; but then, I've always remarked, your very pious young men don't make _very_ good husbands, or happy homes. A man should only think of his wife, and how can the clargy do that when they're the fathers of the whole parish? and I'm sure Mr. Skaife has enough to do hereabouts, for they are an ill broughtened-up set as ever I met with, and, as his housekeeper says, when he isn't writin' his sermons, he's _astonishing_ some one," (_query_, admonishing?) "Now, as to marrying him, with all his occupation, it might do very well for Miss Sylvia, or Miss Dorcas, but for a fine young lady like you, why, you should have horses, and carriages, and servants at command, and be the grandest lady in the neighbourhood. Then, as for Mr. Dalby, why, what with latty_cats_, _re_jectments, and briefs, it's but little time _he'd_ find to pay you proper attention." "Mrs. Gillett!" exclaimed Minnie, so suddenly that she almost frightened her off her pattens, "don't you know Mr. Tremenhere? didn't you know him as a boy?" "Bless me, Miss Minnie, what _are_ you talking of! don't speak of that dreadful young man, Miss; it's unbecoming a modest young lady to know there's such a person living." "Mrs. Gillett!" and the girl stood still in amazement. "To be sure," responded the woman, "he must be a bad character--wasn't his mother? and how could he be good?--Don't a cat always have kittens?" "Mrs. Gillett," cried Minnie, again grasping her arm, and her eyes looked deepest violet with emotion. "You would be a very wicked woman to think what you say; that was Miles Tremenhere with Mr. Skaife. I pitied him before knowing him, and now, if I could by any means see him righted, I'd lend my hand to the good work, and I do hope some day he may be at the manor-house again!" "That Mr. Tremenhere!" exclaimed the politic Gillett. "How boys _do_ alter, to be sure!" She evaded replying to the other things said; it would not do, too decidedly, to take any side of the question; the womb of Time is very prolific--we never know what offspring it may produce. They were in the shrubberies of Gatestone by this time; a few moments' silence ensued, interrupted only by the click-clack of Mrs. Gillett's pattens.