don't look yourself the last few weeks, not my dear lively Douglas,
tearing up and down stairs, whistling like a blackbird. Tell me the
reason," and she laid a well-shaped wrinkled hand upon his arm.

Then, walking up and down the room, he frankly unfolded his
troubles--the approaching marriage of his mother (this was no news),
and, in an agitated and incoherent manner, his desperate predicament
with regard to Cossie Larcher.

"The poor boy," said his listener to herself. "That man-hunting,
determined little cat has got her claws into him. I have seen the
vulgar, made-up minx, without education, fortune, or modesty, trying to
carry off her gentleman cousin! But she shan't have him. No! by hook
or by crook, he must be got out of the country, as sure as my name is
Joyce Malone!"




CHAPTER VII

"THE MONSTER"

For a considerable time Mrs. Malone sat, stroking her long nose with
her long forefinger and thinking profoundly; there fell, in
consequence, an unusual silence. At last this was broken by the old
lady, who exclaimed with an air of triumph:

"Douglas, my boy, I do believe I have got hold of a bright idea!"