"Yes, I know you thought so," said Laura. "Indeed, everybody saw that. Was it very hard to prevent him?" Isabel's colour rose. "I don't know what you mean, Laura," she said. Laura smiled with an unpleasantness that was quite a victory over nature. "Men sometimes fancy," she remarked, "that girls are rather in a hurry to think they want to propose." "Laura!" exclaimed Maud. "They even say that the wish is father to the thought," continued Laura, still smiling, but now a little tremulously. Isabel grew more flushed. "I don't understand you. One would think you meant that I had run after him." Laura remained silent. "Everybody knows he was in love with Isabel for years," said Maud, indignantly. "He was very patient," said Laura. Isabel rose. "I shall not stay here to be insulted. It's quite obvious, Laura, why you say such things." "I don't say anything. Only----" "Well?" "The next time, you might mention that among the reasons why you refused Mr. Neston was, that he never asked you." "I see what it is," said Isabel. "Don't you, Maud?" "Yes," said Maud. "What is it?" demanded Laura. "Oh, nothing. Only, I hope--I wish you joy of him." "If you don't mind a slanderer," added Maud. "It's not true!" said Laura. "How dare you say it?" "Take care, dear, that he doesn't fancy you're in a hurry---- What was your phrase?" said Isabel. "It's perfectly shameful," said Maud. "I don't choose to hear a friend run down for nothing," declared Laura. "A friend? How very chivalrous you are! Come, Maud dear." "Good-bye, Laura," said Maud. "I'm sure you'll be sorry when you come to think." "No, I shan't. I----" "There!" said Isabel. "I do not care to be insulted any more." The two visitors swept out, and Laura was left alone. Whereupon she began to cry. "I do hate that sort of vulgarity," said she, mopping her eyes. "I don't believe he ever thought----" Mrs. Pocklington entered in urbane majesty. "Well, is Isabel pleased with her little man?" she asked. "Why, child, what's the matter?" "Nothing," said Laura. "You're crying." "No, I'm not. Those girls have been horrid." "What about?" "Oh, the engagement, and----" "And what?" "And poor Mr. Neston--George Neston." "Oh, poor George Neston. What did they say?" "Isabel pretended he had been in love with her, and--and was in love with her, and that she had refused him." "Oh, and that made you cry?" "No--not that----" "What, then?" "Oh, please, mamma!" Mrs. Pocklington smiled. "Stop crying, my dear. It used to suit me, but it doesn't suit you. Stop, dear." "Very well, mamma," said poor Laura, thinking it a little hard that she might not even cry. "Did you cry before the girls?" "No," said Laura, with emphasis. "Good child," said Mrs. Pocklington. "Now, listen to me. You're never to think of him again----" "Mamma!" "Till I tell you." "Ah!" "A tiresome, meddlesome fellow. Is your father in, Laura?" "Yes, dear. Are you going to see him about----?"