Miss Pease looked wise.

"Oh, I have a plan," she said. "I can't tell even you, Emily, just what
it is as yet. You see, it isn't really a plan, but only an idea so far.
She doesn't know it herself, of course."

"Hum! Is it a pleasant plan--or idea, whichever you call it? That is,
will she think it pleasant when she learns what it is?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Look here, Letitia," with sudden suspicion, "you aren't planning some
ridiculous sentimental nonsense for that child, are you? You're not
trying to make a match for her, I hope?"

"Match? What are you talking about? If you mean am I trying to get her
married to some MAN," with a scornful emphasis on the word, "I most
certainly am not.

"Humph! Well, if she ever is married, I presume it will be to a man, or
an imitation of one. All right, Letitia. I am glad your great idea isn't
that, whatever it is."

"It is not. You know my opinion of marriage, Emily Wyeth. And, so far
as matchmaking is concerned, I should say you were a more likely subject
for suspicion. That young relative of yours, Sam Keith, appears to be
coming here a great deal of late. He MAY come solely to see you, but I
doubt it."

Mrs. Wyeth smiled grimly.