"Your and my notions of propriety, Nina, are so different, that I don't know how to advise you. You see the consequences, now, of not attending to the advice of your friends. I always knew these flirtations of yours would bring you into trouble." And Aunt Nesbit said this with that quiet, satisfied air with which precise elderly people so often edify their thoughtless young friends under difficulties.
"Well, I didn't want a sermon, now, Aunt Nesbit; but, as you've seen a great deal more of the world than I have, I thought you might help me a little, just to tell me whether it wouldn't be proper for me to write and put one of these gentlemen off; or make some excuse for me, or something. I'm sure I never kept house before. I don't want to do anything that don't seem hospitable; and yet I don't want them to come together. Now, there, that's flat!"
There was a long pause, in which Nina sat vexed and coloring, biting her lips, and nestling uneasily in her seat.
Mrs. Nesbit looked calm and considerate, and Nina began to hope that she was taking the case a little to heart.
At last the good old lady looked up, and said, very quietly, "I wonder what time it is."
Nina thought she was debating the expediency of sending some message; and therefore she crossed the room with great alacrity, to look at the old clock in the entry.
"It's half-past two, aunt!" and she stood, with her lips apart, looking at Mrs. Nesbit for some suggestion.
"I was going to tell Rosa," said she, abstractedly, "that that onion in the stuffing does not agree with me. It rose on my stomach all yesterday morning; but it's too late now."
Nina actually stamped with anger.