"Not any. Every time I was goin' to say anythin' I just said 'Dolls' instead. Didn't I, Aunt Fee?" "Then how did your aunt know----" "Oh, are you all here?" exclaimed Trif, entering the parlor. "I only sent for you, Fenie, to let you know that I am going to write my letter on the piazza instead of in my room; 'tis so much pleasanter out of doors. Don't you--why, my dear sister, what is the matter?" The girl, who was thinking only of the impending departure of the young man who was all the world to her, hurried from the room, followed by Trixy. Kate began at once to complain to Trif of the child's telling--she knew not what, and that was the dreadful thing about it. When Trif learned what Kate's fears and suspicions were she said: "Trixy has told nothing; she has had nothing to tell. If any one is to blame, it is I, who could not help imagining, and hoping too, and talking to my sister about it. If there's nothing to it I shall be dreadfully unhappy, for Jermyn is much the finest unmarried man of my acquaintance, and you are the only woman I know who is entirely worthy of him." "Aunt Fee's cryin' awful, mamma," said Trixy, returning to the parlor. Trif looked reproachfully at Kate, who showed signs of relenting, although she was having a severe struggle with her pride. "When are you goin' to Norfolk to get my dolls?" asked Trixy. Kate laughed, despite herself; Trif embraced her and whispered something which made Kate blush, look toward Trixy, and say: "Run quickly, dear, and tell Aunt Fee that I've been real unkind, and that--for her sake, I won't return to New York until--oh, I don't know when." CHAPTER XVI. COWARDS BOTH. If human nature could be as thoroughly ashamed of its misdeeds as it sometimes is of doings entirely to its credit, the world would be much the better for it. Kate Trewman was very sure, after her interview with Trif, Fenie and Trixy, that she had never done or said anything the night before that was not entirely womanly and honest, but the mere thought of meeting Jermyn face to face in broad daylight made her tremble as abjectly as if she were a criminal and Jermyn an officer of the law. She determined to keep her room all day; when dusk came she would go down to the piazza with Trif and Fenie, and then if Jermyn joined them, as she ardently hoped he would, he could not see in her face all that she felt her heart was putting there. By a coincidence, not entirely odd, Jermyn was feeling very like Kate. He felt that he had acted hastily, although he could not see what else there was for a gentleman to do in the circumstances into which that dreadful Trixy had forced him. Fortunately the duties of the section-room would absorb him for some hours, but afterwards--what? It had been his custom for two years to spend an hour or two each day at the hotel, chatting with old acquaintances and forming new ones, but he could not trust himself to-day.