"I've always heard that love was blind," he said, "but nowadays it seems to be water-proof, too. Look here, my dear: your aunt has been dropping a hint or two to me, and I congratulate you." "On what?" asked Muriel, bristling into immediate rebellion. Again Preston chuckled. "Tut, tut!" he said: he always treated her as if she were the child that he had always maintained to his wife she was not. "You know well enough. He's a fine fellow and well-to-do. Even if we could afford to keep you on here indefinitely, which of course we can't, it would be a good job. Lucky girl!" He went out after that and left his wife's niece free again to hide herself. But not entirely. Ethel, unable to resist her desire for finality, soon tapped at Muriel's door. "Muriel!" she called. For some time there was no answer, though Mrs. Newberry made sure that she heard sounds within the room. "Muriel!" "Yes. Who is there?" "It's me--Aunt Ethel." "Yes, Aunt Ethel?" "Well, Muriel--are you all right?" "Quite, thanks." "Don't you want anything?" "No." "Nothing at _all_?" "Nothing at all, thank you." Ethel hesitated. "But, Muriel----" The girl apparently waited for her aunt to finish the sentence that Ethel had not completed. "Muriel----" "Yes?" Ethel softly tried the door: as she had supposed, it was locked. "O, Muriel, do open the door and let me in." "Why?" "Because, Muriel." "But why? I'm--I'm dressing." "But--surely you know why, Muriel. Why won't you confide in me?" There was a long wait for the answer to this question, but the answer, when it came, was resolute enough: "I've nothing to confide. Please go away now, Aunt Ethel, and leave me alone. Please do." Ethel went. She returned, of course, from time to time, whenever she could think of a new excuse or a new suggestion; but she was always worsted. Muriel did not descend to dinner that night until she was sure that Mr. Newberry, whose deterrent attitude she instinctively counted upon, was there with her aunt. She contrived to be left alone not once with Ethel. It was the habit of the members of the Newberry household to breakfast together only by chance, which meant that they generally ate separately. When Thursday's luncheon was announced, Muriel sent down word that she had a headache. "_What_ do you do when a girl locks her door on you?" asked Ethel of her husband. "They never lock their doors on me," said Preston. "Do be serious. What in the world do you make of all this?" "My dear," answered Newberry, "the only thing I am bothered about is what _you_ may already have made of it. I'm afraid you have made a mess." "But, Preston----" "There is nothing to be done now but to wait, my dear." So it befell that when, exactly at nine o'clock that evening, Stainton's card was sent up to Miss Stannard, Miss Stannard's guardians, one of whom stayed long in the library with ears vainly intent, were as much at sea regarding their ward's decision as was Stainton himself.