“Indeed! Alone with him?”
“Jumbo was there.”
The two old ladies drew themselves up, while Mrs. Hunter chuckled and giggled. “Indeed!” said Mrs. Phoebe; “we should never see a gentleman in private without each other’s company, or that of some female companion.”
“I consulted Mrs. Aylward,” returned Aurelia, “and she said he was old enough to be my father.”
“Mrs. Aylward may be a respectable housekeeper, though far too lavish of butcher’s meat, but I should never have recourse to her on a matter of decorum,” said Mrs. Phoebe.
Aurelia’s cheeks burnt, but she still defended herself. “I have heard from my father and my sister,” she said, “and they make no objection.”
“Hoity-toity! What means this heat, miss?” exclaimed Mrs. Phoebe; “I am only telling you, as a kindness, what we should have thought becoming with regard even to a blood relation of our own.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Aurelia; “but, you see, you are so much nearer his age, that the cases are not alike.”
She said it in all simplicity, and did not perceive, at first, why the two sisters drew themselves up in so much offence, or why Mrs. Hunter cried, “Oh, fie, for shame, you saucy chit! Bless me!” she continued, more good-naturedly, “Cousin Phoebe, times are changed since we were young, and poor Sir Jovian and his brother were the county beaux. The child is right enough when one comes to think of it; and for my part, I should be glad that poor Mr. Amyas had some one young and cheerful about him. It is only a pity his nephew, the young baronet, never comes down to see him.”
“Like mother like son,” said Mrs. Phoebe; “I grieve to think what the old place will come to.”