'Well,' said the new-comer, 'I only know I have an aunt and cousins I've never seen who were coming up some time this week—do these ladies happen to come from the Colonies, by the way?'
'Yes, yes!' cried Flushington, eagerly; 'it's all right, they belong to you; and, I say, do take them away; I can't bear it any longer!'
'Now, now, what's this whispering, Frankie?' cried the aunt; 'not very polite, I must say!'
'He says,' explained Flushington, 'he says it's all a mistake, and—and you're not my aunt at all!'
'Oh, indeed, does he?' she replied, drawing herself together with dignity; 'and may I ask who is this gentleman who knows so much about our family—I didn't catch the name?'
'My name is Lushington—Frank Lushington,' he said.
'Then—who are you?' she demanded, turning upon the unfortunate owner of the rooms; 'answer me, I insist upon it!'
'Me?' he stammered, 'I'm Francis Flushington. I—I'm very sorry—but I can't help it!'
'Why—why—then you're no nephew of mine, sir!' cried the aunt.
'Thank you very much,' said Flushington, with positive gratitude.