"For us," said Aunt Sarah, nodding emphatically. "We're going to have the house cluttered up with boys and young men who will want to marry my nieces."
"Lawk!" gasped the housekeeper. "Will they be standin' in line, think you? Not but the bonny lassies deserve the best there is—"
"Which isn't saying much when it comes to a choice of men," Aunt Sarah sniffed.
"Well," returned Mrs. MacCall, slowly, "of course there'll be none worthy of the lassies. None who deserves our Ruthie. Yet—I'm thinkin'—that that young laddie that was here now—you know, Miss Maltby. Luke Shepard."
"A likeable boy," admitted Aunt Sarah, and that was high praise from the critical spinster.
"Aye," Mrs. MacCall hastened to say, "a very fine young man indeed. And I am moved to say Ruthie liked him."
"Eh!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah.
"You maybe didn't see it. It was plain to me. They two were very fond of each other. Yes, indeed!"
"My niece fond of a boy?" gasped the spinster, bridling.
"Why! were ye not just now speakin' of such a possibeelity?" demanded the housekeeper, and in her surprise, dropping for the moment into broad Scotch. "And they are baith of them old enough tae be thinkin' of matin'. Yes!"