We went slowly back from the Downs into the more shady part of the little town. We stopped at Aunt Penelope's house. A great deal had been happening in our absence. Buttons was flying about like a creature demented, the parrot was calling in a voice loud enough to deafen you: "Stop knocking at the door!" and Aunt Penelope was in her very best cap and in her softest and most stately black silk dress. She wore black silk dresses of the sort which are never seen now. It was thick; it would almost stand by itself; it had a ribby sort of texture, and in order to enrich the silk it was heavily trimmed with bands of black velvet and with a fringe of what they called black bugles. The effect was at once dull and extremely handsome. It suited Aunt Penelope to a nicety--that and her little cap with the real point lace and the soft mauve ribbons. When I appeared she just nodded to me and said something to Vernon, and he said: "Yes, certainly." I ran upstairs. Presently I heard a tap at my door. I went to open it; Aunt Penelope stood outside. "May I come in, Heather?" "Of course, darling auntie." I took her hand; I drew her into the room. "Heather, I know--it's too wonderful. What a splendid fellow! Heather, I am glad." "Oh, auntie, my heart is bursting with happiness!" "Heather, child, I'm a woman of few words, but if your mother were alive she'd be proud of this day. He has the very soul of honesty in his face; he is better looking than your poor dear father ever was, but he has the same sort of nature, so boyish, so impulsive, so brave. He's a dear--that's all that I can say about him." "And if you weren't a dear for your own sake, you'd be one for calling him one," was my somewhat incoherent answer. "Well, now, that's enough sentiment, child; we must to business. How do you like my dress?" "It's magnificent--and you have put it on in honour of me." "In honour of a captain in His Majesty's army. Child, I do so greatly respect army men." "Oh, yes, I see. Thank you, so do I. Indeed, it's a very handsome dress," I continued. "I think so," she replied. "It was made fifteen years ago, at least. I only wear it on the very best occasions, otherwise it would have got greasy ages and ages before now. It's amazing how difficult it is to keep these really good silks from turning greasy; the grease seems to cling to them in some sort of fashion, and you can never get it out, try as you will." "It looks awfully nice--it really does, auntie." "I am proud to be wearing it for your sake and for his to-night." "And you have asked him to dinner?"