"These little restless ways you have are very unpleasant," she said; "my
girls never did such things. I don't know where you get your unlady-like
habits; not from your father, I'm sure. I suppose it's because you don't
go out at all; you never see anybody. There, that reminds me. I have had
a letter from Arabella Forsythe. I don't know whether you remember the
Forsythes; they used to visit here; let me see, fifteen years ago was the
last time, I think. Well, they are going to take the empty house near us
for the summer. She was a Robinson; not really Ashurst people, you know,
not born here, but quite respectable. Her father was a button
manufacturer, and he left her a great deal of money. She married a person
called Forsythe, who has since died. She has one boy, about your age,
who'll be immensely rich one of these days; he is not married. Heaven
knows when Ashurst will see an eligible young man again," she added; and
then, absently, "Eight on a nine, and there's a two-spot for my clubs!"

"I wonder if I remember Mrs. Forsythe?" Lois said, wrinkling her pretty
forehead in a puzzled way. "Wasn't she a tall, thin lady, with a pleasant
face?"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Dale, nodding her sleek, head, "yes, _rather_
pleasant, but melancholy. And no wonder, talking about her aches and
pains all the time! But that's where the button manufacturer showed. She
was devoted to that boy of hers, and a very nice child he was, too." She
looked sharply at her niece as she spoke.

"I remember him," Lois said. "I saw Gifford shake him once; 'he was too
little to lick,' he said."

"I'm afraid Gifford is very rough and unmannerly sometimes," Mrs. Dale
said. "But then, those Woodhouse girls couldn't be expected to know how