Aunt Penniman, however, took no account of it; she spoke even with a touch of acrimony. “My dear Catherine, you know very well that you admire him!” “Oh, Aunt Penniman!” Catherine could only murmur again. It might very well be that she admired him—though this did not seem to her a thing to talk about. But that this brilliant stranger—this sudden apparition, who had barely heard the sound of her voice—took that sort of interest in her that was expressed by the romantic phrase of which Mrs. Penniman had just made use: this could only be a figment of the restless brain of Aunt Lavinia, whom every one knew to be a woman of powerful imagination. VI MRS. PENNIMAN even took for granted at times that other people had as much imagination as herself; so that when, half an hour later, her brother came in, she addressed him quite on this principle. “He has just been here, Austin; it’s such a pity you missed him.” “Whom in the world have I missed?” asked the Doctor. “Mr. Morris Townsend; he has made us such a delightful visit.” “And who in the world is Mr. Morris Townsend?” “Aunt Penniman means the gentleman—the gentleman whose name I couldn’t remember,” said Catherine. “The gentleman at Elizabeth’s party who was so struck with Catherine,” Mrs. Penniman added. “Oh, his name is Morris Townsend, is it? And did he come here to propose to you?” “Oh, father,” murmured the girl for all answer, turning away to the window, where the dusk had deepened to darkness. “I hope he won’t do that without your permission,” said Mrs. Penniman, very graciously. “After all, my dear, he seems to have yours,” her brother answered. Lavinia simpered, as if this might not be quite enough, and Catherine, with her forehead touching the window-panes, listened to this exchange of epigrams as reservedly as if they had not each been a pin-prick in her own destiny. “The next time he comes,” the Doctor added, “you had better call me. He might like to see me.” Morris Townsend came again, some five days afterwards; but Dr. Sloper was not called, as he was absent from home at the time. Catherine was with her aunt when the young man’s name was brought in, and Mrs. Penniman, effacing herself and protesting, made a great point of her niece’s going into the drawing-room alone. “This time it’s for you—for you only,” she said. “Before, when he talked to me, it was only preliminary—it was to gain my confidence. Literally, my dear, I should not have the _courage_ to show myself to-day.”