"Yes, I will, aunt."
"Thank you," said Mr. Huntington, rising. "I do not think you will regret it."
"I think we should be grateful to you," said the young lady. "There are few desirable people in Rossignol, and you would not call our attention to any one who would be undesirable."
She spoke sweetly and smoothly, yet her tones flowed into her relative's ear with a hidden meaning. "Now what do you mean by that, Chelda?" she asked.
Chelda glanced at their caller. He understood her, and he at once lost the contented, almost exalted expression that he had brought away from the Mercer mansion, and took on instead his usual one of slight moodiness.
"She means," he said, hastily, "that my duties call me among a class of people with whom it would not be your good pleasure to associate."
"And I am called the most radical woman in Rossignol!" said Miss Gastonguay. "Thank you, young ecclesiastic."
"I referred to your niece, rather than to you," he said, with a bow.
"Oh, Chelda,—yes, she is an aristocrat," said Miss Gastonguay. "It is born in her, she can't help it. You ought to understand her, in view of your former life. Come, now, do you love all those dirty mill hands and slovenly women you work among?"
"I do not think we need discuss that point. There is duty to be considered as well as pleasure."