"And a very pretty use you are going to make of your privileges, refusing the best young man in the neighbourhood. If you were my daughter, I should be half inclined to send for one of those whipping ladies we read about, and have you brought to your senses that way."
"No, you wouldn't, auntie. You wouldn't be unkind to daughter or to niece."
"Well, you have your father to account to. What will he say, I wonder?"
"Only that his Suzie is to do just as she likes. Do you know that I refused a subaltern up at the Hills, a young man with an enormous fortune whom ever so many girls were trying to catch—girls and widows too—he might have had a large choice."
"And what did my brother say to that?"
"He only laughed, and told me that I knew my own value."
Mrs. Mornington was thoughtful for the rest of the way. Perhaps, after all, it was a good thing for a girl to be difficult to please. A girl as bright and as pretty as Suzette could afford to give herself airs. Allan would be sure to propose to her again; and then there was Geoffrey Wornock, who was expected home before Christmas. Who could tell if Geoffrey might not be as deeply smitten with this charming hybrid as Allan? and Discombe was to Beechhurst as sunlight unto moonlight, in extensiveness and value.
"And yet I would rather she should marry Carew," mused Mrs. Mornington. "I should be afraid of young Wornock."
CHAPTER VIII.
NOT YET.