Then Aunt Mary started the story of a girl whom she had known
intimately in early life, which she no doubt thought would help Grace
to a better comprehension of her difficulties; but the dear lady lost
herself in the domestic entanglement of many families, on the subject
of which she contributed much curious information, without, however,
elucidating the matter in hand. She wandered so far that at length all
hope of return became impossible, and she was obliged to pull up
suddenly and ask what she had been talking about.

"What was I talking about, James; you have been listening to me--what
was I talking about?"

Mr. Brookes made no attempt to give the information necessary for the
blending of her many narratives, and she was forced to seek unaided
for the lost thread. Soon after the girls came in with their gin and
water. They drank their grog, kissed their relations, and retired to
bed.

And the next evening, and the next, and the next, so long as Aunt Mary
and Aunt Hester remained at the Manor House, the evenings passed in a
similar fashion; and, notwithstanding the doleful faces they
occasionally assumed, they found pleasure in lamenting the follies of
the young people. The same stories were told, almost the same words
were uttered. The only malcontent was Willy. He had no interest in his
sisters, and the hours after dinner in the billiard-room when his
sisters were in the drawing-room were those he devoted to looking
through his letters and filling up his diary; so when Sally's name was
mentioned he caught at his short crisp hair and gnashed his teeth.