“Must I sit here, mother?”
“Without a doubt—you must. You know your room. Quick!”
In this manner their first interview passed.
Mrs. Fiske rushed in to exclaim:
“So, you were right, aunt—he has come. I met him on the stairs. Oh! how like dear uncle Mel he looks, in the militia, with that moustache. I just remember him as a child; and, oh, what a gentleman he is!”
At the end of the sentence Mrs. Mel’s face suddenly darkened: she said, in a deep voice:
“Don’t dare to talk that nonsense before him, Ann.”
Mrs. Fiske looked astonished.
“What have I done, aunt?”
“He shan’t be ruined by a parcel of fools,” said Mrs. Mel. “There, go! Women have no place here.”