'Quite sure. Why, I never saw any one,' said he, smiling—'I never cared for any one half so much, except you, Aunt Kitty, no, I didn't. Won't that do?'
'I know I should not have liked your grandpapa—your uncle, I mean-to make such comparisons.'
'Perhaps he had not got an Aunt Kitty,' said Louis.
'No, no! I can't have you so like a novel. No, don't be anxious. It can't be for ever so long, and, of course, the more I am with her, the better I must like her. It will be all right.'
'I don't think you know anything about it,' said Mrs. Frost, 'but there, that's the last I shall say. You'll forgive your old aunt.'
He smiled, and playfully pressed her hand, adding, 'But we don't know whether she will have me.'
Mary had meantime entered her mother's room, with a look that revealed the whole to Mrs. Ponsonby, who had already been somewhat startled by the demeanour of the father and son at breakfast.
'Oh, mamma, what is to be done?'
'What do you wish, my child?' asked her mother, putting her arm round her waist.
'I don't know yet,' said Mary. 'It is so odd!' And the disposition to laugh returned for a moment.