"He is a very ordinary good young man; and you and your sisters are real metal, and worth your weight in gold. There! go away, child; and come and see me again, for it does me good to torment you!" And the singular woman drew the girl into her arms suddenly and kissed her forehead, and then pushed her away. "To-morrow, or the next day, but not to-night," she said, hurriedly. "I should make you cross fifty times if you stay longer to-night." And Phillis was too thankful to be released to linger any longer; but her cheeks were burning as she walked down the avenue. "Why do people always put these things into girls' heads?" she said to herself. "A young man cannot come into the house, cannot say pleasant words, or do kind neighborly actions, but one must at once attribute motives of this kind. I have not been free from blame myself in this matter, for I have feared more than once that Nan's sweet face attracted him,--poor Mr. Drummond! I hope not, for he would not have a chance against Dick. I wonder if I ought to say a word?--if it would be premature or unnecessary? But I should hate him to be unhappy,"--here Phillis sighed, and then threw up her head proudly: "I might say just a word, mentioning Dick,--for he does not know of his existence. I wonder if he would take the hint. I could do it very cleverly, I know. I hate to see people burning their fingers for nothing: I always want to go to their rescue. He is tiresome, but he is very nice. And, heigh-ho! what a crooked world we live in!--nothing goes quite straight in it." And Phillis sighed again. "Miss Challoner!" The voice sounded so near her that Phillis gave a great start. She had nearly reached the gate, and there was Mr. Dancy walking beside her, just as though he had emerged from the ground; and yet Phillis had not heard a sound. "Have I startled you?" he continued, gravely. "You were in such a brown study that I had to call you by your name to rouse you. There is nothing wrong at the White House, I hope?" "Oh, no! Mrs. Cheyne is better: her nervous attack has quite passed off." "Magdalene suffering from a nervous attack?" and then Mr. Dancy stopped, and bit his lip. "Excuse me, I knew her before she was married, when she was Magdalene Davenport--before she and poor Herbert Cheyne unfortunately came together. I doubt whether things have not happened for the best; there!--I mean," as Phillis looked at him in some perplexity, "that there is little fear of her being an inconsolable widow." "How can you say such a thing!" returned Phillis, indignantly. "That is the way with you men, you judge so harshly of women. Mrs. Cheyne is singular in her ways. She wears no mourning, and yet a more unhappy creature never existed on this earth. Not inconsolable!--and yet no one dares to speak a word of comfort to her, so great is her misery."