"Tell me, Cousin Sarah Ann," said Robert, "for I am deeply concerned in Ewing's behalf, and I mean to reform him if I can—does he often get drunk?"
"Get drunk! My boy never gets drunk! You talk just like Cousin Edwin. He only drinks a little, as all young gentlemen do, and if he drinks too much now and then I'm sure it isn't so very dreadful as you all make it out. I don't see why the poor boy must be kept down all the time and scolded and scolded and talked about, just because he does like other people; and that's what distresses me. Cousin Edwin scolds Ewing, and then scolds me for taking the poor boy's part, and it's more than I can bear. And now you talk about 'reforming' him!"
Robert explained that he had misunderstood the cause of Cousin Sarah Ann's grief, but he thought it would be something worse than useless to tell her that she was ruining the boy, as he saw clearly enough that she was. He turned the conversation, therefore, and Cousin Sarah Ann speedily dried her eyes.
"You're riding Mr. Winger's horse, I see. What's become of Graybeard?" she asked, after a little time.
"He is a little lame just now. Nothing serious, but I thought I would hire Winger's colt until he gets well."
"Ah! I understand. The rides soon in the morning must not be given up on any terms. But you'd better look out, Cousin Robert. I'm sorry for you if you lose your heart there."
"Why, Cousin Sarah Ann, what do you mean? I really am not sure that I understand you."
"Oh! I say nothing; but those rides every morning and all that housekeeping that I've heard about, are dangerous things, cousin. I was a belle once myself."
It was one of Cousin Sarah Ann's favorite theories that she knew all about bellehood, having been a belle herself—though nobody else ever knew anything about that particular part of her career.
"Well, Cousin Sarah Ann, I do not think I have lost my heart, as you phrase it; but pray tell me why you should be sorry for me if I had?"