He closed the door after him so as to give her no opportunity of replying, and Aunt Jelly thus being beaten, felt in an exceedingly bad temper. She fought with every one who came to the house, and crushed all except Eustace, whose cool sarcasm was too much for her, but this unexpected resistance of the dutiful Guy surprised her, and she was not ill-pleased. "I didn't think he had so much spirit," she chuckled, as she resumed her knitting. "It comes from his mother, I'll be bound. Jane always had a fine temper of her own and, was twice the man her milksop of a husband was. Well, well! I'm glad Guy can speak his mind. He hasn't much to speak, poor fool; still it's better than nothing." In fact, the old lady was so pleased with Guy's rebellion on behalf of his wife that she became quite good-tempered, and Minnie, on her return, found her patroness for once in her life an amiable companion. As for Guy and his wife, when they were both snugly ensconced in their carriage and driving back to the hotel, both of them laughed heartily over the visit. "Isn't she an old cat?" said Guy, wiping the tears from his eyes; "she fights like the devil! It's the first time I've had a row with her." "I'm sorry it was on my account, Guy," observed Alizon, anxiously. "Don't you bother your head, my dear," he replied coolly, patting her hand; "if it hadn't been you it would have been someone else. If Aunt Jelly hadn't a row every now and then she'd die. I wish to Heaven she would, and then I'd get her money!" "Oh, Guy, how can you speak so?" "Why not? We need the money badly enough, I'm sure. She only wastes it on churches and orphans' homes. I wish to Heaven I was an orphan; Aunt Jelly might take some interest in me." "Well, you are an orphan." "Yes, but that's not the genuine article. Aunt Jelly loves a snivelling, alone-in-the-world brat who needs reforming. A titled orphan like myself is no fun. I can't harrow her soul." "You did your best to do so just now," said Alizon, laughing. Sir Guy echoed her laughter, and when they arrived at their hotel both of them came to the conclusion that they had passed a very pleasant afternoon. CHAPTER XIII. BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE. "'Oh, mither! mither I've brocht hame A bonnie bride upon my steed, Sae lift her o'er the lintel stane, An'brake a bannock o'er her heid.' "'Oh, bairnie, syn the wand began Nane saw sic sicht o' muckle wae, Where gat ye, son, this witch wuman, Wi gowden hair an' skin o' snaw?' "'Oh, mither, she's a Chrisom lass Wha by the Kelpie's burn did stray, Wi buke an' bell an' holy mass I wedded her at break o' day.' "'Oh, bairnie, she's nae Chrisom child, Sae evil glowers her een tae see, She is a speerit fra the wild, An brings but dule tae you an' me.'"