It was hard to distinguish which was the completer dupe of these two echoes of one another in worship of a family idol.
"Willoughby," Miss Eleanor presented herself to be stamped with the title hanging ready for the first that should open her lips, "our Willoughby is observant—he is ever generous—and he is not less forethoughtful. His arrangement is for our good on all sides."
"An index is enough," said Miss Isabel, appearing in her turn the monster dupe.
"You will not have to leave, dear ladies. Were I mistress here I should oppose it."
"Willoughby blames himself for not reassuring you before."
"Indeed we blame ourselves for not undertaking to go."
"Did he speak of it first this morning?" said Clara; but she could draw no reply to that from them. They resumed the duet, and she resigned herself to have her cars boxed with nonsense.
"So, it is understood?" said Miss Eleanor.
"I see your kindness, ladies."
"And I am to be Aunt Eleanor again?"