"Oh no, dear Aunt, only into their beds--and that not until they
are superannuated, which, you know, old people never find out for
themselves," answered Fanny, smiling sweetly and calmly upon Mrs. Dagon.

"What a country it is, Aunt!" said Mrs. Newt, looking at Fanny with a
kind of admiration. "How the young people take every thing into their own
hands! Dear me! dear me! how they do rule us!"

Miss Newt made no observation, but took up a gayly-bound book from the
table and looked carelessly into it. Mrs. Dagon rose to go. She had
somewhat recovered her composure.

"Don't think I believed it, dear," said she to Fanny, in whom, perhaps,
she recognized some of the family character. "No, no--not at all! I said
to every body in the room that I didn't believe what Mrs. Kite said, that
you were hugging Mr. Dinks in the waltz. I believe I spoke to every body
I knew, and they all said they didn't believe it either."

"How kind it was of you, dear Aunt Dagon!" said Fanny, as she rose to
salute her departing relative, "and how generous people were not to
believe it! But I couldn't persuade them that that beautiful lace-edging
on your dress was real Mechlin, although I tried very hard. They said it
was natural in me to insist upon it, because I was your grand-niece; and
it was no matter at all, because old ladies could do just as they
pleased; but for all that it was not Mechlin. I must have told as many as
thirty people that they were wrong. But people's eyes are so sharp--it's
really dreadful. Good-morning, darling Aunt Dagon!"

"Fanny dear," said her mother, as the door closed upon Mrs. Dagon, who
departed speechless and in what may be called a simmering state of mind,