"Now, Aunt Polly," interposed Mrs. Carteret, "let the gentlemen alone."

"She doesn't mean half what she says," continued Mrs. Carteret
apologetically, "and only talks that way to people whom she likes."

Tom threw Mrs. Carteret a grateful glance. He had been apprehensive,
with the sensitiveness of youth, lest his old great-aunt should make a
fool of him before Clara's family. Nor had he relished the comparison
with Ellis, who was out of place, anyway, in this family party. He had
never liked the fellow, who was too much of a plodder and a prig to make
a suitable associate for a whole-souled, generous-hearted young
gentleman. He tolerated him as a visitor at Carteret's and as a member
of the Clarendon Club, but that was all.

"Mrs. Ochiltree has a characteristic way of disguising her feelings,"
observed old Mr. Delamere, with a touch of sarcasm.

Ellis had merely flushed and felt uncomfortable at the reference to
himself. The compliment to his character hardly offset the reflection
upon his looks. He knew he was not exactly handsome, but it was not
pleasant to have the fact emphasized in the presence of the girl he
loved; he would like at least fair play, and judgment upon the subject
left to the young lady.

Mrs. Ochiltree was quietly enjoying herself. In early life she had been
accustomed to impale fools on epigrams, like flies on pins, to see them
wriggle. But with advancing years she had lost in some measure the
faculty of nice discrimination,--it was pleasant to see her victims
squirm, whether they were fools or friends. Even one's friends, she
argued, were not always wise, and were sometimes the better for being