"Deceit of society! I should think not. Only think how he acted yesterday—forcing his way in and rushing up stairs. Why, it's actually quite frightful. He's like a madman. We will have to keep all the doors locked, and send for the police. Why, do you know, Ethel says that he was here before, running about and shouting in the same way: 'Min!' 'Min!' 'Min!'—that's what the horrid wretch calls you —'Min! it's me.' 'Come, Min!'"
At this Minnie burst into a peal of merry, musical laughter, and laughed on till the tears came to her eyes. Her sister looked more disgusted than ever.
"He's such a boy," said Minnie; "he's just like a boy. He's so awfully funny. If I'm a child, he's a big boy, and the awfullest, funniest boy I ever saw. And then he's so fond of me. Why, he worships me. Oh, it's awfully nice."
"A boy! A beast, you mean—a horrid savage. What can I do? I must send for a policeman. I'll certainly have the doors all locked. And then we'll all be prisoners."
"Well, then, it'll all be your own fault, for I don't want to have any doors locked."
"Oh dear!" sighed her sister.
"Well, I don't. And I think you're very unkind."
"Why, you silly child, he'd come here some day, carry you off, and make you marry him."
"Well, I do wish he would," said Minnie, gravely. "I wish somebody would, for then it would put a stop to all this worry, and I really don't know what else ever will. Do you, now, Kitty darling?"
Mrs. Willoughby turned away with a gesture of despair.