"Poor dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, with tender sympathy.
"What a wretch!"

"No, he wasn't a wretch at all; he was awfully handsome, only, you
know, he--was--so--_aw_fully persevering, and kept _so_ at my heels;
but I hurried home from Brighton, and thought I had got rid of him."

"And hadn't you?"

"Oh dear, no," said Minnie, mournfully. "On the day after my arrival
there came a letter; and, you know, I had to answer it; and then
another; and so it went on--"

"Oh, Minnie! why didn't you tell me before?"

"How could I when you were off in that horrid Scotland? I _always_
hated Scotland."

"You might have told papa."

"I couldn't. I think papa's cruel _too_. He doesn't care for me at
all. Why didn't he find out our correspondence and intercept it, the
way papas always do in novels? If I were _his_ papa I'd not let _him_
be so worried."

"And did he never call on you?"

"Yes; he got leave of absence once, and I had a dreadful time with
him. He was in a desperate state of mind. He was ordered off to
Gibraltar. But I managed to comfort him; and, oh dear, Kitty dear, did