"Why, as to that," she cried, with a little nervous laugh, "I gave Flash a cut with the whip and dashed on after the rest. Aunt Matty, upon my word, I doubt if I spoke at all."
"My dear child, he may half imagine himself accepted then."
"Accepted! What can you mean?" she exclaimed, grasping her whip with both hands and bending it double. "I shall go wild if you say that."
"Why, do you dislike him so much?"
"Dislike! no. What is there to dislike about him?"
"Well, then," I said, a little mischievously, "he is rather good-looking, well educated, of irreproachable family, and rich."
"Don't, don't, Aunt Matty, or I shall hate you."
"Not quite so bad as that," I cried, kissing her hot cheek. "Now, let us be serious. All young ladies must expect offers of this kind."
"But I don't want them. It distresses me."
I saw that she was in earnest, and that young Bosworth's attentions had really distressed her. So, drawing her to a sofa, we sat down and talked the matter over more quietly.