She laid great stress upon the last two words, and Magdalen colored, while Guy, who saw his aunt’s drift, said laughingly, “Don’t pray drive Miss Lennox into telling whether she was a belle or a student, copying some picture, or perfecting herself in music. You’ll be asking next if she knew the Dagons and Draggons, whom not to know is to be nobody indeed.” He spoke sarcastically now, and Magdalen’s face was scarlet, though she could not help laughing at his allusion to the “Dagons and Draggons” whom she had met, and so was not lacking in that accomplishment. She knew it was very natural that Mrs. Seymour should wish to know something of her antecedents, and she said, “I was _not_ here to copy pictures. I came with friends, and saw, I suppose, what is called society; at least I met the _Dagons_ and _Draggons_, if that is any proof. I was chaperoned by Mrs. Walter Irving, of whom you may have heard.” “Mrs. Walter Scott Irving, of Lexington avenue,” Mrs. Seymour exclaimed; “I have heard of her. Are you a relative of hers?” “No, madam, not a relative. I was adopted by her husband’s half brother, Mr. Roger Irving, when I was a very little child. He was as kind to me as if I had been his sister. I have always lived at Millbank, and always intended to live there until circumstances occurred which made it desirable for me to seek a home elsewhere and earn my own livelihood. There was found a later will than the one proven at the time of Squire Irving’s death, and by virtue of that will Mr. Roger’s nephew, Frank, came into possession of the estate, and Roger went away, while I preferred not to be dependent.” She had told all of her history which it was necessary to tell, and after a little more conversation she bade her new acquaintance good-night and retired to her room. “Well, Guy, what do you think of her?” Mrs. Seymour said, coming to her nephew’s side. “I think she’s splendid,” he replied; “but who the deuce is it she looks like? She has evidently been as delicately brought up as Alice herself. It’s the finding of that will which has turned her adrift upon the world, no doubt, and I pity her, for she is every inch a lady; and, Aunt Pen, don’t for gracious sake put on airs with her, as if you were the great Mogul, and she some Liliputian. Remember from what a height she has fallen! Think of her knowing the Dagons and Draggons!” He was teazing her now, but however much of a scapegrace she might think him to be, Auntie Pen was pretty sure to consider and follow his advice, and the next morning she was very polite to Magdalen, and offered of her own accord to stay another day in New York if she liked, saying Guy should drive them to the Park, or wherever she wished to go. But Magdalen longed to be out of the city, and an hour or two after breakfast the carriage came round to take them to the train.