Aldyth came in, looking highly amused.
"What is it?" asked her aunt, seeing the fun sparkling in her eyes. "What is all this about Hilda and Guy? You surely do not think that there is anything between them?"
"What do you mean by anything, auntie?" asked Aldyth, laughing.
"Anything serious—anything more than silly trifling."
"It is difficult to imagine Guy serious about anything," said Aldyth; "but he really seems to have a great fancy for Hilda, and, what surprises me more, she appears to be falling in love, or fancies that she is, with him."
"Goodness me! You do not mean to tell me that, Aldyth?" exclaimed Miss Lorraine.
"Why, auntie, you look quite shocked. Do you think it would be a bad thing? I certainly think Hilda might do better. I cannot help being amused by it—Guy is odd and Hilda so romantic; still, it is not a thing to make fun of, I know."
"Certainly it is not," said Miss Lorraine, with a severity of tone that surprised her niece. "There would be a terrible to-do if such a thing were to happen. No, no, depend upon it, Guy is only trifling, Aldyth. Don't you do anything to encourage it."
"I should not think of doing so," said Aldyth, looking troubled in her turn. "Do you suppose that uncle would dislike it?"
"Dislike is not the word," replied her aunt; "he would be simply furious. But why do you say that Hilda might do better, Aldyth? Guy would make a good husband."