"Mr. Denham says you want me," she said, coming to the bedside with her
customary pleasant smile.

"I do," said her mistress. "I want to speak to you on a very serious
subject and I want you to pay a lot of attention. It’s this: I want you to
marry Jack."

Poor Janice jumped violently,—there was no doubt as to the genuineness of
her surprise.

"Well, don’t you want to?" asked Aunt Mary.

"I don’t believe I do."

At this it was the old lady’s turn to be astonished.

"Why don’t you?" she said; "my heavens alive, what are you a-expectin’ to
marry if you don’t think my nephew’s good enough for you?"

"But I don’t want to marry!" cried poor Janice, in most evident distress.

Aunt Mary looked at her severely.

"Then what did you kiss him for?" she asked, in the tone in which one
plays the trump ace.

Janice started again.

"Kiss—him—" she faltered.