"Are you giving me an order, Denzil dear? Because there is no need to beat about the bush. What is it?"
"They have got scarlet fever down at Dunhythe. They want us to lend the Cottage Hospital to the County Council—they want to turn out Miss Smith to-day, within an hour or two—and I want to bring her here for the final week of her promised convalescence."
"My dear Denzil! This is a little too fast. My poor old brain will hardly take it all in. Lead me to a garden seat. That's right—thanks. Yes, now let us hear it all over again."
Denzil sat down and explained in detail. He was very fond of his aunt, and had never yet discovered that she was laughing at him.
"Well, but, Denzil dear," said she, when she thoroughly understood the position, "have you considered that there may be some awkwardness? I don't quite understand what this young girl's position is to be. Is she to have her meals in the servants' hall?"
"Aunt!" said the nephew in horror. "She is a lady, you must see that."
"Yes, I know, Denzil. She is a lady, and you, I am proud to find, have the wit to perceive it. But, for all that, she was extricated from a truss of hay on a canal barge, and all our servants know it. If she comes here, and we treat her as an equal, I fear there may be just a wee scrap of scandal in the village respecting our noble but unconventional conduct. Please understand that I shall not mind. But, as your chaperon, it is my duty to point out to you that people will talk. You are usually just a little bit of a coward about talk, you know."
Denzil sat quite still. His face took on a new, dogged look. It very much resembled the look worn by his brother Felix in his mood of championship.
"Aunt Bee," he said, in a low voice, "tell me your own honest opinion of Rona Smith. Tell me what you think of her."
"I think she may grow up to be a fine woman some day, dear. She is, I believe, thoroughly honest and loyal. She is also religious, and grateful for kindness without any cringing. These are fine qualities, and rare in our days."