"Well, look here, your uncle and I won't have it. Just because you're pretty—"
Hetty tossed back her wealth of black curls.
"It's all right," she said in a whisper, her eyes shining as she spoke. "He wants me to be his wife—he asked me this morning."
"He doesn't mean that, surely," said Mrs. Armitage, incredulous and pleased.
"Yes, he does; he'll speak to uncle to-morrow—that is, if I'll say 'Yes.' He says he has no one to consult—he'll make me a lady—he has plenty of money."
"Do you care for him, Hetty?"
"Oh, don't ask me whether I do or not, Aunt Fanny—I'm sure I can't tell you."
Hetty moved noisily about. She put plates and dishes on a tray preparatory to taking them into the parlor for the young men's supper.
"Look here," said her aunt, "I'll see after the parlor lodgers to-night." She lifted the tray as she spoke.
Hetty ran up to her bedroom. She took a little square of glass from its place on the wall and gazed earnestly at the reflection of her own charming face. Presently she put the glass down, locked her hands together, went over to the open window and looked out.