Mrs. Curtis’s regular habits were a good deal shocked to find Fanny still at the breakfast table. The children had indeed long finished, and were scattered about the room, one of them standing between Colonel Keith’s knees, repeating a hymn; but the younger guest was still in the midst of his meal, and owned in his usual cool manner that he was to blame for the lateness, there was no resisting the charms of no morning parade.
Her aunt’s appearance made Fanny imagine it much later than it really was, and she hurried off the children to be dressed, and proceeded herself to her room, Mrs. Curtis following, and by way of preliminary, asking when Colonel Keith was going to Ireland.
“Oh!” said Fanny, blushing most suspiciously under her secret, “he is not going to Ireland now.”
“Indeed! I quite understood he intended it.”
“Yes,” faltered Fanny, “but he found that he need not.”
“Indeed!” again ejaculated poor perplexed Mrs. Curtis; “but then, at least, he is going away soon.”
“He must go to Scotland by-and-by, but for the present he is going into lodgings. Do you know of any nice ones, dear aunt?”
“Well, I suppose you can’t help that; you know, my dear, it would never do for him to stay in this house.”
“I never thought of that,” said Fanny simply, the colour coming in a fresh glow.
“No, my dear, but you see you are very young and inexperienced. I do not say you have done anything the least amiss, or that you ever would mean it, only you will forgive your old aunt for putting you on your guard.”