"I don't understand," she said drily.
"No?—I'm afraid I'm explaining myself rather badly. I thought you'd guess ... The fact is, Aunt Elizabeth," he smiled at her affectionately, "I'm hoping you'll let me become, you know, a real nephew of yours, one day."
The little old lady gave a gasp. "I knew it!" she cried triumphantly. "You and Jill?—Ha!" she laughed. "You can't deceive an old woman like me!"
"I don't want to!" McTaggart sprang up, his hand outstretched to meet her own, his face so radiant with happiness that her old heart softened at the sight.
"But I must have your permission first. I don't care a hang what her mother says!—She's placed herself outside the affair. Gone off and left those two children..." he checked himself, his voice indignant. "But you're her father's sister, you see—his favourite one. And we both think you've as good a right as any one ... to give her away."
He stopped abruptly.
"Give her away? Jill, you mean?" she stared at him, obviously amazed. "What are you talking about, young man? You're not going to marry her to-morrow?"
"No," he amended, "to-morrow week."
He laughed at her startled exclamation, and went on, still holding her hand—unconsciously abandoned to him—with subtle persuasion in his voice.
"I don't want you—exactly—to 'give her away.' In any sense!——" he laughed again—"but you simply must come to the wedding. We've both of us set our hearts on that."