"Well, come in. Clear out, Totty. Now, Gipsy, your decision."
"Now, Guardy, wait until after breakfast. How is any one to form an opinion on an empty stomach, I'd like to know? There, don't get into a fidget about it, as I see you're going to do, because it's no use."
"But, Gipsy, tell me—will it be favorable?"
"That depends upon circumstances. If I have a good appetite for my breakfast I may probably be in good-humor enough to say yes to everything you propose; if not, I tremble for you, Guardy. Visions of blunt pen-knives and bulletless pistols flash in 'awful array' before my mind's eye. Shall I ring the bell for Aunty Gower?"
"I suppose so," growled the old man; "you are as contrary as Balaam's ass."
"Guardy, look out! Don't compare me to any of your ancestors."
At this moment Mrs. Gower entered, followed by Lizzie, now an invalid, wrapped up in numberless shawls, until she resembled a mummy.
The squire had informed them both, the night before, how matters stood; and they glanced anxiously at Gipsy, as they entered, to read, if possible, her decision in her countenance. Nothing could they guess from that little dark, sparkling face, as vivacious and merry as ever.
When breakfast was over Mrs. Gower and Mrs. Oranmore quitted the room, leaving Gipsy alone with the squire.
"Now, Gipsy, now," he exclaimed, impatiently.